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SUSAN GROWS UP 


BY 

MARY F. LEONARD 

AUTHOR OP EVERYDAY SUSAN, ’ 
^'CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE, ” ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 






©G!.A388002 

Copyright, 1914, 

By THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. 


OCT 21 I9i4 

1a>j ( 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Problems 1 

IL The Story Lady . ..... 16 

III. Ways and Means 27 

IV. An Important Question .... 39 

V. Philanthropy and Reform . . ., 51 

VI. Chiefly Candy 62 

VII. Between Times 75 

VIII. The Claims of Society 86 

IX. The Heart of Knighthood ... 99 

X. At the Seat of War Ill 

XI. Spades and Roses 121 

. .XII. Aline 131 

^XIII. A Tea Room 142 

' XIV. Was it a Ghost.? 152 

XV. Strange Stories 163 

XVI. The Difficult Ones 17S 

XVII. Pictures 183 

XVIII. Gossip 192 

XIX. A Blue Monday 201 

XX. John Justin 212 


V 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI. Aline’s Laundry 221 

XXII. Greenbrier 230 

XXIII. At White Sulphur .... 240 

XXIV. Letters 252 

XXV. After All 261 

XXVI. Her Shyness 270 

XXVII. Still Partners 282 

XXVIII. Some Time Ago . .... 296 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Drawings by Rachael Robinson Elmer 


" She would wish that nothing might happen to 

spoil Holliday’s visit.” (Page 237) Frontispiece ^ 

PAGE 

" Was this dreamland castle to be her com- 


pensation ? ” 37 

" You haven’t been to see me ” 80 


"You are going to Dick’s dinner, of course, 

Susan?” 114 ^ 


" The next time I see you I shall have some- 
thing to tell you ” 129 

" Why wasn’t who hung ? ” . 192 

"But Holliday and Dick! Who would ever 

have thought of this ? ” 257 


"Why, Dick Seymour ! ” Holliday cried, spring- 
ing up. " Who said you might come? ” . 275 ^ 



SUSAN GROWS UP 


CHAPTER I 

PROBLEMS 

Browinski’s was a favorable point from 
which to make social observations. It really 
seemed that on a pleasant afternoon every- 
body who was anybody appeared there sooner 
or later. Miss Mary and Miss Carry who had 
been with the confectioner for ten years or 
more were fountains of information if tact- 
fully approached. Little Miss Crane, Society 
Reporter for the Evening Herald, gleaned 
many an item from them. They knew before 
anyone else that the Seymours, who had been 
seldom at home since Mrs. Seymour’s death 
two years ago, were going to open their house 
this winter; that the Brands had returned from 
Canada; that Mrs. Boone was already making 
arrangements for Miss Lily’s coming out 
party. They had but to keep their ears open 
1 


2 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


and without effort on their part all this inter- 
esting news flowed in upon them. 

Ai'ound the soda fountain on these warm 
autumn days a swarm of school children 
buzzed, tennis players dropped in for refresh- 
ment and frequent carriages stopped on the 
way to or from the parks. There were other 
confectioners in town, plenty of them, but as 
yet Browinski was firmly entrenced in the 
hearts of the old inhabitants. 

On this particular afternoon, just inside the 
pillars which marked off the precinct where 
ices were served, Susan Maxwell sat screened 
from view of those in the shop by the leaves 
of a big palm. The palm did not interfere 
with her vision in the least, and with her folded 
arms resting on the top of the little marble- 
topped table she watched Miss Crane with 
her ingratiating smile and nervous frown, talk- 
ing to Miss Mary over the counter. Susan 
liked secluded corners, as Holliday had often 
told her, and looking on at people from a safe 
distance had an inexhaustible interest for her. 

Her attitude towards Annie Crane was a 


PROBLEMS 


3 


critical one. A real lady she thought would 
not wear so soiled a waist, and she glanced 
down complacently at her own immaculate 
blue frills. Blue was her color. It brought 
out the rose in her cheeks and emphasized the 
clear whiteness of her skin. It matched her 
eyes and became the chestnut of her hair. 
From tip to toe Susan was daintiness itself, 
and if there were a mere suspicion of prim- 
ness, it seemed just a part of her demure 
charm. Had the brown hair, so prettily 
rolled back from her face and coiled low on 
her neck, been braided and turned up with 
bows behind her ears, she would have looked 
the same shy little girl of six years ago. 

To Susan those days seemed far back in the 
past and this afternoon she was feeling rather 
wistful at the thought. Among the patrons 
of ice-cream soda were Robin Bright, and 
Florrie and Jimmy Mann. How odd to re- 
member that this mischievous trio were just 
the age she had been when she first met 
Holliday., In another group was Patsy 
Mann, barely fifteen, but with all the airs of a 


4 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


young lady. Patsy was the beauty of a de- 
cidedly plain family, and was in consequence 
spoiled. With much jingling of bangles and 
fluttering of ribbons, she laughed and talked 
to her two boy companions. Gazing absently 
into the shop between the palm leaves Susan 
reflected that being grown up had its dis- 
advantages. There were a great many prob- 
lems involved. 

She began to revise her judgment of Annie 
Crane. Perhaps you could not divide the 
feminine world into ladies and not ladies. 
Miss Crane had a sweet voice and gentle 
manner, and she worked hard. The Cranes 
had once been rich. It must be very tiresome 
to be always trying to find out what people 
were doing or going to do. Susan felt half 
sorry she had not been more cordial when 
Annie stopped her to ask for news. She might 
have told her Nettie Try on would be home 
next week. Suppose she herself had to be a 
society reporter! In considering this dire 
possibility she did not see Aline Arthur till she 
stood before her. 


PROBLEMS 


5 


“ Well, Susanna, I hope you have had a nice 
nap,” Aline exclaimed. “ Have I kept you 
waiting long? ” 

‘‘ Not so very. You know I am always 
ahead of time,” Susan answered, smiling. 

“ I know I am late, but it is Madame 
CarrelFs fault. Clothes are such a nuisance. 
What will you have, sherbet or ice cream? — I 
asked you to meet me here because it seemed 
to offer the best chance for an uninterrupted 
conversation.” 

Aline was wonderfully improved. She had 
lost the sallowness of her childhood, and gained 
color. She carried herself remarkably well, 
and when she became interested and animated 
was almost beautiful. 

‘‘ I must talk to somebody,” she went on, 
‘‘ and you have such a lot of common sense, so 
as I told you over the telephone, I want to 
state my problem.” 

Susan laughed. “ I don’t know about the 
common sense. I don’t seem to have enough 
to solve my own. But then other people’s are 
always easier.” 


6 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ I didn’t dream you had any, Susan, you 
look so calm and contented. What is your 
trouble? ” 

“ Let’s consider yours first,” Susan said, 
always shy when it came to her own affairs. 

“ Well, mine is the same old one. I don’t 
see how I can stand it a whole winter. Aunt 
Allie is not fair. When I agreed to come 
home and go into society I didn’t mean to give 
every minute of my time to it. She is lavishing 
all sorts of beautiful things upon me, and 
thinks me a horrid wretch because I don’t fall 
down on my knees in gratitude. Are you 
obliged to be grateful for things you don’t 
v^ant? Did I ask her for them? ” Aline de- 
manded fiercely. 

“ You do have to be polite about things you 
don’t like sometimes,” Susan suggested, laugh- 
ing at her companion’s manner. I hear 
Madame is making you some perfectly beauti- 
ful dresses. Don’t you like them? Honestly.” 

“ Oh, they are pretty, and I could stand 
them if I didn’t have to pay the price.” 

Susan opened her eyes in surprise. 


PROBLEMS 


7 


“ Aunt Allie pays the bills of course,” con- 
tinued Aline, “ but I must pay her in unques- 
tioning obedience.” 

“If you go into society I have always heard 
you have very little time for anything else,” 
Susan began. 

“ Well it ought not to be so. You don’t 
sympathize one bit,” cried Aline. “ Listen to 
this. Yesterday we met Miss Tryon at the 
Brights’. She is a cousin of Nettie’s, you 
know, and head of the settlement down on 
Clay street. Susan, she is perfectly fine, — so 
poised and serene in manner, and she talks 
delightfully about her work. It is the most 
worth while thing I ever heard of. In a way 
she is rather a plain person. Aunt Allie 
couldn’t imagine why I liked her looks. She 
thinks I simply pretended for the sake of 
disagreeing with her. If she only knew how 
thankful I’d be if I could think as she does 
about something! I had a lovely talk with 
Miss Tryon and she asked me, if I had any 
time, to come down to the settlement and help. 
In the midst of it Aunt Allie interrupted and 


8 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


was insufferable. She hoped Miss Tryon 
would not put foolish ideas into my head. She 
didn’t believe in settlements. It was taking 
people out of their class and spoiling them. 
C77^settlements they should be called, she said, 
and laughed at her joke. You can’t imagine 
anything more arrogant, Susan. And Miss 
Tryon was so ladylike! ” 

Susan was pretty certain the arrogance had 
not been all on Miss Arthur’s side. She knew 
very well how Aline must have flared out 
later, and what an unpleasant scene probably 
followed. Miss Arthur was aggravating, but 
so was Aline. It seemed to her in the latter’s 
place she would give up for one winter. So 
many pretty new things rather appealed to 
Susan. She timidly made the suggestion, 
“ Just for one winter. Aline.” 

“ Why should I have to be miserable even 
for one winter? If it did any good, — but it 
is simply wasting time. And life is so short, 
Susan, and there is so much to be done. I want 
to be needed. Aunt Allie doesn’t need me. 
She thinks I am good looking and wants to 


PROBLEMS 


9 


show me off. She is surprised and pleased. 
If I had stayed the homely little black thing I 
was, I’d be allowed to do as I pleased, so far as 
society is concerned.” 

Aline was not in the least vain. It was 
simply her frank way. It was true that her 
aunt was proud of her beauty, Susan knew. 
“ If you promised. Aline, even if you didn’t 
realize all it meant, don’t you think you ought 
to try to stand it for a while. Miss Arthur 
would be so disappointed. And besides what 
could you do? ” she asked. 

‘‘ I know I could make my way in the world 
if I had a chance. I long to be independent; 
but oh dear! I suppose as you say, I shall 
have to put up with it for a while. Nobody 
seems to understand. I am considered so 
fortunate, and perfectly unreasonable because 
I’m not happy.” 

‘‘ Fortunate and perfectly unreasonable, is a 
funny combination,” said Susan laughing, 
‘‘ but I think I understand a little.” 

“ And you are a nice girl to let me growl to 


10 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


you. Now it is your turn. What is your 
trouble? ” 

“ Oh, nothing very much; — just that I wish 
I could earn some money. Father, you know, 
is not really any better. The doctor says he is 
improving and will get well, but it will take a 
year. There is some trouble at the spice mills, 
too, and they aren’t going to pay any dividend 
this winter. It worries Mother dreadfully.” 

“You could teach, couldn’t you?” Aline 
suggested. 

“ I thought of that, but you see I can’t leave 
Mother, and I couldn’t have a little class in the 
house, because Father is so nervous.” 

“ Let me see,” Aline bit her lip thought- 
fully. “ It seems to me there is a book called 
“ Five hundred Ways to Make a Living.” 
Or perhaps it is “ Five hundred Places to sell 
Manuscript.” I’ll tell you Susan, — make 
candy. The kind you make for the Bazaar at 
Easter. Everybody likes candy.” 

Upon this quite absurd suggestion a new 
voice broke in. “Why, Aline, and Susan! 
What are you doing here? ” and Lily Boone, 


PROBLEMS 


11 


fair and plump and wonderfully arrayed, 
rustled towards them. 

Aline had not seen her since her return from 
a three months’ tour abroad, and they greeted 
each other warmly. “ Susan and I are eating 
ice cream. Sit down and let Frank bring you 
something,” she urged. “ Of course you had a 
grand time. We want to hear about it.” 

“ Grandma is waiting outside ; I have only a 
minute,” Lily replied, drawing up a chair 
nevertheless. ‘‘ Yes it was lovely, but awfully 
tiresome too,” she added candidly. — “ Having 
to look at so many pictures and things. It 
makes my head ache. I liked Paris. I brought 
home some lovely gowns.” 

“Pictures!” Aline groaned. “If Aunt 
Allie would only take me abroad, but she is 
like you, Lily.” 

“ Oh, of course I am glad I have seen them. 
I kept a diary. I’ll show it to you. Wasn’t 
it too bad I missed Holliday? She was in Eng- 
land when we were in Paris. They say she is 
very much admired. Some artist, I forget his 
name, has painted her portrait. It was hung 


12 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


somewhere, — on a line, and took a prize or 
something. Maybe it wasn’t a prize, but any- 
way everbody was talking about it.” 

The other girls laughed, and Susan asked if 
she saw it. 

“ Yes, and it didn’t look like Holliday to 
me. I didn’t care for her dress. It was 
queer. — But, Girls, tell me, do you think it bet- 
ter to have your debut party early, or among 
the last? I can’t decide. Lily wrinkled her 
pretty brows over the momentous question. 

“ You see, Susan, Lily has her problems 
too,” remarked Aline, smiling. 

“ Can’t you decide either? ” asked Lily. 

Aline laughed. ‘‘ All such matters are ar- 
ranged for me. Aunt Allie does as she 
pleases, and I am dragged at her chariot 
wheels.” 

‘‘ What do you mean? Won’t she let you 
ride? ” Lily asked, not half attending. 

“ She could ride if she wanted to,” Susan 
said smiling, adding, ‘‘ If you have yours first, 
it is more of a novelty, but if it is last, you can 
improve on the others.” 


PROBLEMS 


13 


“ Your Christmas parties have always been 
so pretty, Lily, why not wait till the holidays? ” 
Aline asked. 

“Yes, Christmas decorations are pretty, but 
I don’t know. I’ll have something then, any- 
way. The boys will be at home from college. 
Charlie will certainly, and perhaps Dick Sey- 
mour. Marian said she didn’t know positively. 
— Tell me — ” Lily lowered her voice, “ Is it 
true about Phil? ” 

“ Do you mean that he was expelled from 
college ? ” Aline asked bluntly. 

Lily nodded. 

“ Susan and I only know the rumor, and 
that he is not going back. He is reading law 
in his father’s office,” 

“ I think it was just mischief, but Bessie 
says it was worse than that, and won’t tell me 
what. Phil dances beautifully. I’m glad he is 
going to be at home. I don’t think he would 
do anything very bad, do you? ” 

“ We’ll hope not, anyway,” said Susan. 

As the three girls entered the shop together 
a few moments later, a young man at the soda 


14 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


fountain with a small boy on either side of 
him, turned, and then came to meet them, greet- 
ing Lily with mock ceremony. “ Miss Boone! 
How can I express my joy at seeing you once 
more upon our side of the pond.” 

“Why, Phil!” Lily cried, “We were just 
talking about you.” 

“It is too much to hope it was something 
pleasant you found to say? Seriously, it is 
awfully nice to see you again, Lily. As Miss 
Crane will say in her Sunday column: ‘ She 
returns to our shores more radiantly beautiful 
than ever.’ ” He smiled over her shoulder at 
the others. 

“ He wants to hear the nice things we were 
saying about him,” laughed Aline, and Lily 
added that she was glad he was going to be at 
home. 

“ Thank you. There are many compensa- 
tions. In other words it is an ill wind that 
doesn’t blow some good,” Phil replied. 

Philip Grant had a pleasant face and genial 
manners which on occasion could become flat- 
teringly deferential. Mrs. Boone said he was 


PROBLEMS 


15 


one of the few young men who possessed some- 
thing of the courtliness of the last generation, 
“ I am afraid he is trifling, — just a little,” 
Aline remarked to Susan after Mrs. Boone 
and Lily had carried him away in the carriage, 
“ but I doubt if there is any real harm in him.” 

“ Children adore him, which is supposed to 
be a good sign. Miss Margaret says his new 
stepmother spoils him. Look Aline,” Susan 
touched her arm, ‘‘ Do you know who that is? ” 
The person she referred to was a young 
woman, who accompanied by a handsome col- 
lie, was passing Browinski’s at the moment. 
Though quietly dressed in black there was 
something striking in her appearance. 

“ I haven’t the least idea. Perhaps she is an 
actress. Did you notice how the dog matched 
her hair? She must be a stranger, — a visitor 
perhaps. Well, Susan, thank you for listening 
to me. I shall try to take your advice. Good- 
bye.” 

The girls separated at the door. Aline going 
to take a car at the next corner and Susan 
walking slowly up North Street, in one of her 
brown studies. 


CHAPTER II 


THE STORY LADY 

In the southwest a storm was gathering, but 
Susan did not notice it. She was thinking of 
something the Brocade Lady once said about 
life being like a kaleidoscope. If you watched 
you would see how, as the bits of colored glass, 
falling this way and that by a turn of the wrist, 
made ever changing patterns, so fate was for- 
ever placing people together in new and un- 
looked for combinations that brought about a 
new story. 

As far back as the days of the old red diary 
and her first year at school Susan had loved to 
wonder what was going to happen. To turn 
in imagination the blank pages of the future, 
and dream over the unwritten tale. And eigh- 
teen finds more material for dreams than ten 
or twelve. 

In the last few years many changes had come 
16 


THE STORY LADY 


17 


to pass in the neighborhood so closely asso- 
ciated with her childhood. Here was Christ- 
mas Tree House now a staid and irreproach- 
able family mansion, imder the rule of the two 
sturdy Brand boys, with all its ghosts laid, and 
mysteries forgotten. A large ‘ For Sale ’ 
board in the yard^ of the Reynor house had a 
romance back of it, and not that of the poet 
and Anne Mary Grant either, but a more re- 
cent one. Soon after their marriage the death 
of Anne Mary’s mother had occurred, and the 
next year she and Mr. Reynor had gone to 
California to take charge of a boys’ school. 
They took with them the youngest Grant boy 
who was not strong, and it was arranged that 
Arthur and his wife should live at home and 
take care of the judge. This plan, however, 
was not carried out, but instead the judge 
engaged the permanent companionship of his 
old sweetheart. Miss Cornelia Reynor, who had 
declined to go to California with Reggie and 
his wife. 

It caused a very funny mix-up of relation- 
ships, making Judge Grant brother-in-law to 


18 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


his son-in-law, and Miss Cornelia stepmother 
to her sister-in-law, but it was generally agreed 
that in every other respect it was a most fitting 
union. Mrs. Boone’s one regret was that the 
Brocade Lady couldn’t know about it. Her 
sudden death had occurred some months before 
the marriage. 

The kindly and picturesque presence of the 
Brocade Lady was greatly missed. Her son 
had gone away no one, unless it was Colonel 
Brand, knew where, and the cottage stood 
vacant, awaiting a tenant. 

When Susan turned the corner by the Sey- 
mours’ she noticed how swiftly the clouds were 
gathering. Should she run over to the Rectory 
and wait, or ask for an umbrella? Nettie was 
not there and she didn’t know the new Mrs. 
Bright very well. She was another of the 
changes which had occurred in the two years 
Susan had spent at school in the East. 

Another hasty survey of the sky convinced 
her that she would at least have time to reach 
the drug-store on the next corner. Then she 
would be nearly home. She hurried on, almost 


THE STORY LADY 


19 


running, but the drops began to fall thick and 
fast. Why not take shelter on the porch of the 
Brocade Lady’s cottage? It was probably 
merely a shower. 

Acting upon this thought she ran across the 
street, unlatched the gate, swinging it to be- 
hind her with a click, and urged on by the in- 
creasing storm, fairly flew up the steps to the 
porch. Here she paused breathless, smiling to 
herself at her good fortune in having reached 
shelter just in time. The rain descending in 
a sudden sweep drove her the next moment into 
a corner of the shallow vestibule. 

Through the small panes of the side lights 
she could see into the hall. There was the old 
clock that used to tick ‘ Virtue is its own re- 
ward ; ’ the rosewood hatrack of an ecclesia- 
tical design, the winding stairs she and Holli- 
day had climbed so often in the days when Miss 
Margaret occupied one of the dormer win- 
dowed rooms above. Presently for no reason 
in the world she began to feel uneasy. The 
rain had driven everybody off the street and 
shut her in with that lonely house. Why had 


^0 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


she chosen it, instead of St. Mark’s, which was 
probably open? 

“ Don’t be a goose,” she sternly told herself. 
“What could happen to you here? Then it 
suddenly occurred to her that it was queer the 
rugs should be down in the hall, but before she 
had time to consider this, the door opened be- 
hind her and a voice said, “ Won’t you come 
in?” 

It was not a ghostly figure exactly, that met 
Susan’s startled eyes, yet in her white dress, 
enveloped by the strange greenish light of the 
passing storm, the lady seemed for a moment 
unreal. 

“ Come in,” the low-pitched voice repeated. 
“ You are getting wet; you must.” 

The imperious tone carried Susan across the 
door sill, where she paused. 

“ I am sorry I startled you,” the lady 
added. 

“ Thank you. I thought the house was 
vacant, or I shouldn’t have come in. I think 
it is about over now. I must go on.” While 
she spoke it came to Susan that this was the 


THE STORY LADY 21 

lady she had seen passing Browninski’s with 
the dog. 

A flash of lightning followed by a crash of 
thunder made them both start. The stranger 
motioned Susan aside and closed the door. “ It 
is not over yet, and until it is you are my 
prisoner, but I shall treat you kindly.” She 
smiled mischievously. 

She was charming to look at. The careless 
arrangement of her red brown hair, the grace- 
ful flowing lines of her dress, were not only 
beautiful but individual. The mischievous 
smile disconcerted Susan, however, and she 
stood stiff and shy with very red cheeks. 

‘‘ Here, Rufus ! Come and help me to assure 
this young lady that we are not dangerous.” 

At this, out of the sitting-room trotted the 
beautiful tawny collie. He turned question- 
ing eyes on his mistress, then, as she added, 
“ Tell her it will give us much pleasure to 
shelter her for a while,” he advanced and of- 
fered Susan a friendly paw. 

Such advances were not to be scorned. 
Susan loved dogs. 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ And now come into the sitting-room. You 
will be perfectly safe,” the lady rather mock- 
ingly repeated. 

Susan did not like to be made fun of, and 
for all her timidity, could on occasion be very 
dignified. It showed in the turn of her head, 
in the line of her lips, and most of all in her 
blue eyes. 

The manner of her hostess changed instantly. 
“ Please do not be offended with us,” she cried. 
“Tell her how lonely we have been, Rufus; 
that we have not had a soul to speak to for 
days, and that it has gone to our heads, but 
that we are really quite all right, and have 
our credentials and pedigrees and so on, ready 
for inspection.” 

In telling her mother about it afterwards, 
Susan said, “ Of course I know I ought not 
to go into a strange house alone, but somehow 
I knew then it was all right. The dog was so 
dear, and she looked so lovely with her arm 
around his neck. 

“ She is going to relent,” the lady exclaimed. 


THE STORY LADY 


“ I see it in her eyes. Perhaps she will let us 
offer her a cup of tea.” 

Susan couldn’t help laughing now as she 
obediently followed this strange person into the 
familiar room. It was the same, yet different. 
Here were still the tall bookcases on either side 
of the high mantel, with Plutarch and Jose- 
phus, and Lives of the Lord Chancellors on 
their shelves, but more modern literature and 
-probably lighter, was scattered about on the 
tables in a profusion the Brocade Lady would 
have considered disorderly. Before the high 
brass fender an oriental rug took the place of 
the sleepy lion which had reposed there so long, 
and here and there were ornaments, bits of 
tapestry, pieces of pottery, which relieved the 
primness without lessening the dignity of the 
room. 

Pushing forward an easy chair for Susan, 
her hostess seated herself on one of the tall 
ottomans facing her, with an easy grace that 
seemed almost theatrical. Rufus rested his 
nose on her knee. 

‘‘ This is good of you,” she said. “ And do 


24 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


you hear the rain? You couldn’t possibly go. 
Do you know what you reminded me of a 
moment ago? Of Fitz- James when he re- 
turned the chief his haughty stare. I forget 
how it goes, — ‘ This rock shall fly, from its firm 
base as soon as I; ’ isn’t that it? Of course it 
was upon flying you were determined, but the 
attitude was the same. Oh, I know by your 
eyes you loved The Lady of the Lake, when 
you were a little girl.” 

Again Susan had to laugh. “We read it in 
this very room,” she answered. 

“ Really? Then you have been here before. 
You can tell me about the former owner. A 
strong vivid person I should imagine.” 

Susan nodded. The Brocade Lady had cer- 
tainly been strong and vivid. 

The Brocade Lady is a delightfully quaint 
title. Was it she who read, The Lady of the 
Lake?’^ 

“ No, that was Miss Margaret, our teacher, 
who lived with her for a while.” 

Before she knew it Susan was being led on 
to tell about the school in St. Mark’s. It 


THE STORY LADY 


25 


seemed incredible afterwards that she could 
have talked so freely to a stranger. The men- 
tion of Christmas Tree House brought forth 
an exclamation. 

“ Your conversation is perfectly delightful. 
I had jumped to the conclusion that I had 
chosen a perfectly commonplace town and 
neighborhood in which to spend my winter, 
but I see my mistake. — Yes, unhappily, it has 
stopped raining. I see I cannot keep you, ‘but 
won’t you come again? ” 

“ Oh, thank you,” said Susan, feeling a re- 
turn of her shyness as she stood up to go. 

“ My name is Story, — Joanna Story. I 
can refer you to Mr. Bright. I am a stupid 
story, but ” 

This announcement of herself had almost the 
effect of royalty, an impressiveness ‘ Miss 
Story ’ would have lacked. 

“ I am sure you are not in the least stupid,” 
Susan said earnestly. “ I am Susan Maxwell, 
and I’ll be glad to come and see you.” 

Joanna Story took her hand, and smiled on 


26 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


her. “ Susan exactly suits you,” she said. 
“ Do please come.” 

At the corner Susan paused and looked back. 
The Story lady and Rufus stood on the porch, 
watching her. She waved her hand before she 
turned. “ I haven’t had an adventure for 
years,” she told herself. “ Not since Holliday 
left. But this looks like the beginning of one. 
I wonder who she is, and why she .has come 
here? Stupid! I should think she wasn’t, but 
she is certainly a strange Story.” 


CHAPTER III 


WAYS AND MEANS 

Foe two small feminine persons to have all 
the responsibilities of a family, financial and 
otherwise, suddenly thrust upon them, respon* 
sibilities which had been carried heretofore by 
a reserved and indulgent husband and father, 
was peculiarly hard. 

“ A woman ought not to be as ignorant as 
I am, Susan,’’ her mother sighed. “ Yet how 
could I help it? ” 

Mr. Maxwell had been injured in a rail- 
road accident the year before, and though 
slowly improving, was still suffering from 
nervous shock. Any mental effort was for- 
bidden, all business matters must be kept from 
him, particularly anything that might worry 
him. 

There were kind friends of course: Colonel 
Brand for one, who undertook to see that mat- 
27 


28 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


ters at the office were arranged, but no friend 
however kind could anticipate all the puzzles 
and problems that were sure to present them- 
selves to an inexperienced person like Mrs. 
Maxwell. And now on top of everything had 
come the temporary closing down of the spice 
mills. 

“ Of all things we must not let father know 
of this, Susan,” she said, “ but it means such a 
slice out of our income. I declined Joe’s offer, 
but I’m afraid now I’ll have to let him help. 
I hate to take his money when he is planning 
to be married.” 

“We won’t ask him till we have to,” Susan 
answered, adding, “ I think I ought to be able 
to make some money.” 

“ I could not spare you, even if there were 
no other objection,” Mrs. Maxwell said posi- 
tively. 

“ I should think not,” agreed Mrs. Boone, 
who had run in for a moment as she often did. 
“ Don’t you worry about the mills. I have 
quite a lot of stock myself, and they assure me 
that it will be all right eventually. No doubt 


WAYS AND MEANS 


29 


we’ll be getting back dividends one of these 
days. Talking about girls making money 
though, there’s Nellie Emerson. You remem- 
ber her, Mrs. Maxwell? She spent a winter 
here with her aunt. She has opened a lingerie 
shop in New York, and is making a fortune. 
At least I should think she must be. Twelve 
dollars, my dear, for the plainest shirtwaist. I 
bought one for Lily, — not tailored, that isn’t 
her style, and I’m ashamed to say what I paid 
for it.” 

Mrs. Boone was sympathetic and kind but 
not much help. You felt that her optimistic 
view of the spice mills was made possible by a 
large income from other sources, and Miss 
Emerson’s success somehow was rather dis- 
couraging than otherwise. Susan couldn’t 
open a lingerie shop. It was these problems 
of daily living and the anxious lines in Mother’s 
face that caused her to look wistfully at the 
children around the soda fountain that after- 
noon. 

Miss Tillie Flynn who was making over a 
dress of Aunt Emily’s for her, noticed her 


30 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


gravity. “ Now Miss Susan,” she said, as she 
pinned up the shoulder seams, “ don’^t you 
worry. Things always work out, I know, for 
I have seen hard times. You look back and 
wish you hadn’t. Now I have to give up this 
house, and where I am going or how can I find 
time to move, I can’t see, but I tell myself, 
‘ Tillie Flynn, it will work out if you 
just let it and don’t get in the way with your 
worry.’ ” 

When you are young it is easy to believe 
things will come out right, and Miss Tillie’s 
cheerful spirit sent Susan home in a happy 
frame of mind which reacted on the invalid, 
the result being a pleasant evening and a good 
night. Susan was learning in these days that 
there was nothing to be more thankful for, than 
a good night. 

Good luck often comes in such a guise you 
fail to welcome it. Susan sitting in the swing- 
ing seat on the porch in the pleasant October 
sunshine, after dinner on Sunday, made a lit- 
tle face behind the vines at sight of Cousin 
Thomas Benson coming in at the gate. He 


WAYS AND MEANS 


31 


was an eccentric old bachelor; short and wiry 
and grizzled, with a queer nervous manner. 
It was his custom to call several times a year 
on Sunday afternoon, and sit for an hour, 
his stick between his knees, his hat in his 
hand, conversing stiffy, with frequent silences. 
She regarded him as an unmitigated bore. 
As he came up the steps she rose to meet him. 

How do you do, Susan. How is Frank 
to-day? ” 

“ Father is taking a nap now. Cousin 
Thomas, but I’ll call Mother. Won’t you come 
in?” 

Mr. Benson appeared stiffer than usual to- 
day. He listened courteously to the remarks 
made by Susan and her mother, and let them 
drop with a bend of his head, twirling his hat 
on his cane meanwhile. Just as the situation 
began to seem hopeless he remarked, “ I have a 
little matter of business I should like to dis- 
cuss with you, Katherine, if you will pardon 
me for mentioning business on Sunday.” 

At this Susan rose, glad of an excuse to es- 
cape and return to the sunny porch and her 


32 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


thoughts. These were concerned with a prize 
offer made by an eastern publishing house for 
the best Sunday School story-book. She had 
cut it out of a magazine and put it carefully 
away. She meant to try for it. She had a 
story already begun. She determined to work 
on it in secret if possible, so if she failed no- 
body but herself would be disappointed, and if 
she succeeded — ! The mere possibility of this 
sent her off into a delicious dream, for the 
prize was one thousand dollars ! Common 
sense after a while came to her rescue, remind- 
ing her that she was looking too far ahead. 
She decided*to think of something else and the 
first thing that was suggested to her was her 
new acquaintance, Joanna Story. 

She was the sort of person to stir one’s im- 
agination. Susan had had no opportunity to 
ask about her, but she was looking forward 
with much eagerness to meeting her again. 
There was something in her manner that was 
like Holliday, and perhaps Miss Margaret, 
too. 

“ All is not lost that’s in danger, my dear 


WAYS AND MEANS 


33 


Katherine,” Cousin Thomas’s voice remarked 
at the door. 

“ I am glad you feel so,” Mrs. Maxwell re- 
plied. ‘‘ I’ll talk the other matter over with 
Susan and Frank and let you know.” 

When the visitor had taken himself stiffly 
down the street, Susan exclaimed, “ Isn’t he 
funny? What did he want, Mother? ” 

Mrs. Maxwell sat down beside her daughter. 
“ He wants to come and live with us, Susan.” 

‘‘ Mother! ” 

“ That is how I felt when he first mentioned 
it. I couldn’t make out whether he really 
wanted to come very much or whether he was 
proposing it to help us. I think he is kind.” 

“ It wouldn’t be much help, a cranky old 
man like that,” cried Susan. 

“ I don’t know. He has to have certain 
things, such as stewed prunes and brown bread, 
but he would pay a very liberal board. He 
wants two rooms and I could give him. — Now, 
dear, I am just saying ‘ if.’ I could give him 
my room and the little hall room that opens 
into it, and move into yours, putting you in 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


S4i 

Joe’s. I should hate to move you, but it would 
be most convenient for Father. You see, 
Susan, I could almost run the house on what 
he would pay. Prunes and brown bread aren’t 
expensive.” 

“ Shall we all have to live on primes and 
brown bread? ” Susan asked, making a face. 

“ Perhaps it will be just as well to have a 
man in the house, and it might help to enter- 
tain Father. He has a queer way of quoting 
proverbs, I’ve noticed.” 

“ I heard him saying ‘ All is not lost that’s 
in danger.’ I suppose that is the spice mills.” 

“ Yes, and, — I didn’t tell you before, Susan, 
but the people in the little Green Street house 
have given notice, and they haven’t paid last 
month’s rent. I mentioned that to Cousin 
Thomas, and he quoted, ‘ Better a vacant house 
than a poor tenant.’ ” 

‘‘ He seems to have cheered you up. Mother. 
Perhaps we’d better take him.” 

‘‘ With everything falling about our ears it 
would be a comfort to have something certain 
to count on. I don’t quite like the idea of 


WAYS AND MEANS 


35 


boarders, but a cousin isn’t like just anybody.” 

“ Cousin Thomas isn’t like anybody under 
heaven,” Susan said, laughing. 

The chief obstacle proved to be Mr. Max- 
well. It was impossible to tell how he would 
take a thing. “ Boarders, Kitty! Has it come 
to that?” he exclaimed. 

“ Cousin Thomas isn’t a double gentleman. 
Father, so he isn’t boarders,” Susan urged 
merrily. “ And if you like we can call him 
a guest, as Miss Cornelia did Mr. Lemoyne.” 

But Mr. Maxwell could not smile even at the 
allusion to Dick Swiviller. It was hard to re- 
member that he really couldn’t. Susan felt 
sometimes that he might if only he would try. 
The doctor told them to have patience, and 
keep him in the sunshine, and amuse him in 
quiet ways and they would soon see how much 
better he was. There were times when he was 
quite cheerful and interested, and like himself. 
But now he only shook his head sadly, and 
said, “ Do as you like, of course, Kitty. What 
right have I to object? ” 

The tables then turned completely around. 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Mrs. Maxwell with tears in her eyes, declared 
to Susan that she would write to Cousin 
Thomas and tell him it would not be possible 
to take him. And Susan became an ardent 
advocate on his side. Father wouldn’t mind 
when it was settled. He didn’t like the idea 
of anything different, but it would be good for 
him. In the end Cousin Thomas was allowed 
to come. 

Susan found a pleasant excitement in the 
moving his coming entailed. Joe’s old room 
was smaller than hers, but it had a deep closet, 
and a pleasant corner by a south window for 
her desk, and when her frilly curtains were 
hung, and all her belongings in place, it looked 
pretty enough for anybody. She loved to stir 
about, duster in hand, making things orderly 
and neat. She wore a light blue dusting cap 
and an apron to match, that covered her all 
over, and Bessie Mann declared she meant to 
give her some blue dusters for Christmas. 

Muff, the handsome maltese given to her by 
Charlie Willard after Wynkyns’ decease, and 
whose name came from his likeness to her squir- 



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WAYS AND MEANS 


37 


rel furs, followed her around as if consumed 
with curiosity over these changes. 

Above her desk in its new place, Susan hung 
a picture Dick Seymour had sent her two years 
ago. It showed a steep road winding up to a 
distant castle that lifted its slender towers, one 
after another, ever higher and higher, into the 
blue sky. It was called “ Dreamland,” and the 
card that accompanied it read, “ For Every- 
day Susan.” 

‘‘ I suppose I shall always he Everyday 
Susan and stay at home,” she had once re- 
marked, when Holliday and Dick were plan- 
ning to meet the next summer abroad. Was 
this dreamland castle to be her compensation? 
Susan wasn’t sure what Dick meant by it. 

“ His gifts are always a little unusual for a 
boy,” was Mother’s comment. 

It was a beautiful picture, and Susan loved 
it. With Muff hugged in her arms she sat 
before it now, her eyes on the road, winding, 
winding till it reached the fairy towers. ‘‘ Oh, 
Muff, let’s go!” she whispered into his furry 


ear. 


38 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Cousin Thomas wasn’t so bad Susan owned, 
after he had been in the house a week. He was 
very little trouble, and he told Mrs. Maxwell 
that he had not had anything so like a home 
since he was a boy. Something beside the ex- 
clusively feminine proved good for Mr. Max- 
well, too. So after all Miss Tillie’s theory, 
that things would work out if you did not ob- 
struct the process with your worries, seemed 
justified thus far. 


CHAPTER IV 


AN IMPORTANT QUESTION 

“Who is this Miss Story I am hearing so 
much about? Ought we to call on her? ” Mrs. 
Boone asked the question at one of Mrs. 
Brand’s Tuesday afternoons. 

It was the source of general satisfaction that 
one who had borne her reverses as Margaret 
Kennedy had, should come to her own again, 
and there was no more popular hostess in town 
than the mistress of Christmas Tree House. 

Mrs. Brand had a guest, a cousin of the 
colonel’s, a serious-minded person, interested 
in many philanthropic enterprises, and rather 
impatient of wasting her time on people who 
had no ideas on such subjects. This afternoon 
Mrs. Williamson was deep in a discussion of 
social work with Miss Tryon, the head resident 
at the new settlement, who had been corralled 
for her benefit, and this being the case, there 
was no reason why the group around the tea 
39 


40 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


table where Susan presided, should not dis- 
cuss home matters. 

“ Let Susan give you another cup, Mrs. 
Boone,” urged her hostess. “ This is a very 
special, mild tea someone sent Sidney. I like 
to have it appreciated.” 

“ Thank you, I can’t resist, though Dr. 
Mann tells me I drink too much. I reminded 
him that the English are a healthy race, and 
yet if you believe their novels they do little 
else but drink tea. One lump, Susan. No, I 
am too old-fashioned to take lemon. I do 
wonder where Lily is? She promised to meet 
me here. The child is wearing herself out.” 
Mrs. Boone spoke cheerfully, and leaned back 
comfortably, her eyes on the steaming cup. 
She did not seem seriously alarmed about Lily. 
It sometimes occurred to Susan that it must 
be pleasant to be an elderly person, beyond 
having things expected of you, with all your 
problems solved, presumably. 

“What about Miss Story? Who is she?” 
asked Mrs. Brand. 

“ She has taken the Brocade Lady’s cottage, 


AN IMPORTANT QUESTION 41 

Margaret. It seems she is young, I haven’t 
seen her myself. Young, that is, to be going 
around renting houses. She has an elderly 
maid or companion. Cornelia Grant was tell- 
ing me about her.” 

“ She has a lovely dog,” put in Susan. 

“ Here comes Cornelia, herself,” added Mrs. 
Boone, as a plump, rosy lady, very prettily 
dressed, rustled in followed by Aline Arthur 
and the missing Lily. 

“ I picked these girls up on the way,” she 
exclaimed, greeting Mrs. Brand. “ And here 
is Susan, and I see Nettie and Bessie across 
the room. It is quite like a meeting of Thim- 
bles, isn’t it? ” 

Mrs. Grant wore her recent honors very be- 
comingly. “ We can’t blame the Judge, can 
we? ” Mrs. Boone observed in an aside to her 
nearest neighbor. 

‘‘ I have always been grateful to you. Miss 
Cornelia, for keeping my girls together that 
winter,” said Margaret Brand, who never for- 
got she had been teacher of the little school in 
the basement of St. Mark’s, and whose closest 


42 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


friends were her former pupils. “We are ex- 
pecting you to tell us about this new comer, 
Miss Story/’ she added, when the last arrivals 
had settled themselves. 

“ I really know nothing of her, except what 
Mattie Grayson said. I believe she brought 
a letter of introduction to Mr. Bright. Net- 
tie must know something. Mattie said she 
was very distinguished-looking. From Bos- 
ton, isn’t she? Anyway she doesn’t twang 
her r’s and she uses the broad a.” 

Nettie and Bessie who had been listening to 
the conversation between Miss Tryon and Mrs. 
Williamson, now joined the group at the tea 
table. Mrs. Boone demanded to know what 
they were talking about, over there? 

“ They have begun on jail matrons, I be- 
lieve,” Bessie replied. 

“ Nettie, we want to know about Miss 
Story,” said Mrs. Brand. 

“ Have ybu met her? ” Nettie asked. “ Isn’t 
she fascinating? ” 

“ Nobody here has met her. Tell us what 
you know.” 


AN IMPORTANT QUESTION 4S 

“ Uncle Rob had a letter I think, but doesn’t 
Susan know her? ” 

“Why, Susan Maxwell! And you have 
been sitting there in silence,” cried Mrs, 
Boone. 

“We really haven’t given her a chance,” said 
Mrs. Brand, laughing. “ I remember she did 
say something about a dog.” 

“ It was one of those adventures Susan never 
has,” Nettie said. “ Miss Margaret you do 
have the loveliest little cakes.” 

“ Here is something else that is lovely, 
Susan’s candy. Aline pass these chocolates, 
please. Now, Susan, the story.” 

Susan obediently related her adventure, 
which wasn’t much of one after all, she said, 
concluding with: “ She seemed to me a very 
interesting person, and most unusual.” 

“ Oh, very,” echoed Nettie. 

“ Why is she here, Nettie? Tell me that,” 
demanded Mrs. Boone. 

“Why, climate, I believe, and to be near 
her brother who is a mining engineer, and has 
some work in the mountains of this state.” 


44 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ Climate is nonsense. Nobody comes here 
for climate. It is neither one thing nor the 
other. She’s from Boston, you say? ” 

‘‘ California,” answered Nettie. 

‘‘ Cornelia said Boston.” 

‘‘ People from California are very likely to 
be from somewhere else, too, aren’t they? ” 
Aline suggested. 

‘‘ She was at church on Sunday,” said Net- 
tie. “ She told Uncle Rob she would have very 
little time for society, but she didn’t say what 
she was doing.” 

“Well!” exclaimed Mrs. Boone. “Mar- 
garet, let’s call on her. If she is all right she 
ought to know a few people, and if she isn’t, 
we’ll find out and warn the community. We 
don’t want to be taken in as we were with — — ” 

“ Now, Mrs. Boone, please don’t bring that 
up,” cried Mrs. Grant, lifting her hands. “ I 
am going over to talk to Mrs. Williamson, I 
see Miss Tryon rising,” she added. 

' “ Cornelia can’t endure to hear Mr. Le- 
moyne’s name,” Mrs. Boone remarked, as Mrs. 
Grant moved away. 


AN IMPORTANT QUESTION 45 

The entrance of the two Brand children di- 
verted the interest from the stranger. Henry 
Kennedy, otherwise Kenn, and William Sid- 
ney, junior, became the center of attraction 
as they faced the company from their mother’s 
side, the one gravely, the other mischievously. 
Mrs. Brand with her beautiful boys beside her 
made a charming picture. 

How I wish I could paint her just so,” 
sighed Aline. “ I don’t do anything except 
in dabs.” 

‘‘You seem low in your mind. Aline. I don’t 
think I could be, in a suit like that.” Bessie’s 
eyes rested admiringly on her friend’s brown 
velvet. 

“ Nonsense, Bessie! You know life is more 
than clothes,” Aline answered with a shrug. ^ 

“ It seems pretty much all clothes to me at 
present,” laughed Bessie, “with Patsy and 
Florrie, and Ellie and me, not to mention 
mother and aunt Jen, all to be fitted out for 
winter.” 

“But don’t you see, that is worth while? 
You are useful and needed.” 


46 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ And I am sure you look very nice your- 
self, Bessie,” Susan added. 

“ And she should be very proud of achieving 
so much against such odds,” put in Nettie. 

“ Thank you all for your bouquets,” said 
Bessie, coloring with pleasure. She did look 
well in her plain cloth suit of dark blue. Her 
brusque manner was a good deal soft- 
ened, and her air of quiet efficiency, had its at- 
traction. 

“ Don’t you think Aline ought to be ashamed 
not to be more grateful, when her aunt gives 
her such beautiful things?” Nettie whispered 
to Susan as Aline turned to speak to Miss 
Try on. “ I want you to meet Cousin Rebecca, 
Susan. Some afternoon you must go with me 
to the Settlement.” 

Miss Tryon was like Nettie herself, of the 
blonde German type, with a strong, bright 
face, and winning manner. Susan found her 
pleasant and easy to talk to, when Nettie pres- 
ently introduced her. 

The last person to appear was Marian Sey- 
mour, who in these days was quite intimate 


AN IMPORTANT QUESTION 4il 

with Cousin Margaret. Everything about her 
was extreme, and her conventional manner cast 
a constraint upon the other girls. 

“ I don’t know why Marian affects me as 
she does,” said Bessie. “ She is no better than 
the rest of us.” 

Lily Boone was the only one who seemed 
not to mind Marian. She sat very much at her 
ease in a big chair, from which she had been 
looking on and listening in silence, meanwhile 
consuming a quantity of candy. “ That’s an 
awfully stylish frock, Marian,” she remarked, 
lifting her large blue eyes and allowing them to 
travel contemplatively over the last comer. I 
shouldn’t have had that touch of green, though. 
Rose would be more becoming.” 

“ Thank you, Lily. Perhaps it is just as 
well our tastes are not identical,” Miss Sey- 
mour replied. “ Papa was in such haste to 
get home he allowed me very little time for 
shopping.” Addressing Susan she continued, 
“ Richard and I saw Evelyn Heywood at 
Carlsbad. She and her aunt were there with 
Mr. Lawrence who had been ill. Evelyn sent 


48 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


her love to all her friends. She is quite weaned 
from America, and you can’t wonder, she is so 
admired.” 

“ I had a letter from her last week,” Susan 
said, but Marian apparently did not hear, con- 
tinuing to give information about Plolliday in 
a way she found exasperating. Holliday 
had written : “ Marian Seymour is the same 
old poker she always was, and Dick the 
same old dear. A bit stiff too, but still sans 
parieU" 

“ By the way, Susan, are you out this 
winter? ” Marian asked. “ I want to know 
because I am going to give a luncheon to the 
debutantes.” 

Before Susan could speak, Lily answered, 
“ She won’t let her name go on the list, but we 
are going to drag her out as much as possible. 
She has promised to receive with me.” 

“ You won’t be asked anywhere,” Marian 
remarked coolly. 

“ Father is not well enough. Mother thinks 
I’d better not, and so do I,” Susan found voice 
to say. 


AN IMPORTANT QUESTION 


49 


“ Marian has the advantage of us in one way, 
she doesn’t mind being rude,” observed Nettie, 
as with an indifferent, “ I merely wished to 
know,” the young lady walked away. 

“ I think Marian is beginning to look old. 
Did you notice how sharp her nose is? ” asked 
Lily. 

They all laughed at this. “ Nonsense, Lily, 
Marian is not old. — Not more than twenty 
three,” Bessie said. 

“ I am sure that is old not to be married, 
and she has been out four years.” 

Mrs. Boone who had succeeded in interest- 
ing Mrs. Williamson with her extraordinary 
fund of genealogical information, suddenly dis- 
covered how late it was, and rounding up the 
neighborhood girls took them all home. 

‘‘ One would think having everything you 
want would make you pleasant, but it almost 
seems to work the other way,” Susan observed 
at the supper table. 

“ What do you mean? ” her mother inquired. 

“ I mean that Marian Seymour is the most 
disagreeable person I ever met.” 


50 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ Why, Susan, I don’t like to hear you speak 
so,” Mrs. Maxwell exclaimed. 

‘‘ " A full cup is hard to carry ’ ” quoted 
Cousin Thomas. “ Probably she hasn’t all she 
wants either,” he added. 


CHAPTER V 


PHILANTHEOPY AND EEFOKM 

Lily and Bessie came by for Susan on their 
way to the lecture on Dress Reform. The lady 
who was the exponent of the movement had 
been heralded by clever advertisements dis- 
guised as news items, and her picture had 
adorned the social page of at least one of the 
Sunday papers. Admission to the lecture at 
the Masonic theater was by invitation only. 

Mr. Maxwell established in the sunny bay 
window with a detective story which was part 
of the doctor’s prescription, asked Susan when 
she looked into the dining-room with her hat 
on, what she supposed the lady was going to 
get out of it for herself. 

‘‘ I don’t know. Father. She is a reformer 
you see.” 

“ Even so I can hardly believe she travels 
around the country giving lectures in expensive 
51 


52 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


halls simply and solely to induce her sisters 
to adopt a more sensible dress,” he replied, 
skeptically. 

The air was full of philanthropy and reform. 
People were going about seeking whom they 
might reform, and if you escaped it was by the 
skin of your teeth, Phil Grant said: but Phil 
took nothing seriously. 

A distinct impulse to such matters was im- 
parted by that ardent champion of good works, 
Mrs. Williamson, during her two weeks’ stay. 
She scorned purely culture clubs. They were 
selfish, she said. 

The two old clubs known respectively as 
Spades and Thimbles had this winter been 
united in a conversation circle which met every 
two weeks. It was known as Thimbles and 
Spades, or the T. S. Club, which initials Phil 
explained to stand for Talk and Supper. It 
had taken a literary turn at first, but since 
Mrs. Williamson’s remark the question had 
arisen whether something more vital should not 
not furnish the theme, and the argument prom- 
ised to wax warm. 


PHILANTHROPY AND REFORM 


53 


Susan wasn’t sure which side she was on, 
while Aline quoted ‘ Life is real, life is earnest,’ 
as if that sentiment settled everything. 

Although at first thought there was nothing 
grave or serious about Dress Reform, Mrs. 
Williamson gave it her approval. Women 
were slaves to fashion, she said, and needed to 
be emancipated. She had heard Mrs. Fuller 
and could endorse her. She was a devoted club 
woman. 

“ They say her gowns are perfectly lovely,” 
Lily remarked as the girls set out together. 
“ Grandma says she hopes they won’t make me 
dissatisfied, because I simply can’t have any 
more.” 

‘‘ You ought to have something dreadful done 
to you if you are dissattisfied,” Bessie told her. 

Evidently a great many tickets had been dis- 
tributed, for the theater was well filled, and 
the line of carriages on both sides of the street 
indicated, so Miss Crane said in her column 
next day, the character of the audience. 

After the girls were seated in the front row 
of the dress circle, Annie Crane joined them. 


54 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


She sat on the edge of her chair and gazed 
about with her usual feverish interest, as if she 
feared something might escape her, while she 
made her customary inquiry, “ Do you know 
anything, girls? ” 

Bessie supplied her with an item. Her 
married sister was coming for a visit. Annie 
wrote it down on her tablet. “ I want to ask 
you something,” she began, her gaze wandering 
over the house. “ Is that Marian Seymour in 
the box? Have you seen Mrs. Fuller? She 
is a beauty. I interviewed her. You know she 
has a magazine, fashions and patterns and so 
on. But what I was going to ask is this. 
Carolyn is thinking of opening a tea room. 
Do you think it would pay? You know where 
we live, — just in the midst of the shopping dis- 
trict, and until the suit is decided there we must 
stay.” With her head on one side she gazed 
anxiously at the other girls. 

“ It might,” Bessie answered, “ Tea drink- 
ing is becoming fashionable.” 

‘‘ Aunt J ane makes lovely tea cakes. They 
might take. I am so glad you think there 


PHILANTHROPY AND REFORM 55 

might be something in it. The wolf must be 
kept from the door, you know.” 

She spoke gayly, but you felt the seriousness 
of the situation beneath the gayety, Susan 
thought. Her own problems were making her 
sensitive. Annie left them a moment later and 
Bessie said, ‘‘ Those Cranes don’t know the 
least thing about economy. I saw Carolyn 
buying French nightgowns the other day. She 
thought the best were the cheapest, she 
said.” 

‘‘ I thought so too,” Lily remarked. “ I am 
sure common things wear out sooner.” 

“But you can buy good material and make 
them yourself, and they won’t be common and 
they won’t cost half, and will wear better,” ex- 
plained the practical Bessie. 

But the lecture on economy gave way to the 
lecture on dress, as the curtain rose upon a 
drawing room, and Mrs. Grace Fuller entered. 

As an entertainment Dress Reform was a 
success. The lecturer was a handsome woman 
with a graceful bearing. Her gowns were 
undeniably pretty and appropriate, and did not 


56 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


depart so far from prevailing styles as to seem 
eccentric. Before the talk was over most of the 
audience were convinced that by subscribing for 
the Grace Fuller Magazine, and thus learning 
what to wear, by purchasing patterns and thus 
learning how to make these attractive costumes, 
you could, with little effort become both healthy 
and beautiful. 

Bessie was carried away, and so was Nettie 
whom they met as they went out. “ Susan, 
didn’t she remind you of Miss Story? ” the lat- 
ter asked. “ She has the same graceful disre- 
gard of present styles.” 

“ I hke graceful disregard,” laughed Susan. 
“ There is Aline. I wonder how she is im- 
pressed? ” 

Aline it seemed was inclined to think so much 
talk about apparel, a waste of time, and was 
bored. 

At the corner the group separated. Nettie 
joined her aunt, Bessie and Lily went off to- 
gether; Phil Grant who was standing in the 
door of a music store crossed the street and 
joined Susan and Aline. 


PHILANTHROPY AND REFORM 


57 


“How did you like Mrs. Grace Fuller?” 
he wished to know. 

“ Do you suppose that is really her name? ” 
asked Susan. “ Was it a happy coincidence? ” 
“ It is very silly,”* Aline declared. 

Phil with malicious mischief asserted that 
dress reform was a proper subject for women’s 
interest. They were putting their fingers into 
all sorts of pies that didn’t belong to them, with 

their suffrage associations and 

Aline interrupted hotly. “ Isn’t this our 
city as much as yours? Don’t we have to pay 
taxes, if we have property? ” 

“ Please don’t talk so loud,” Susan begged. 
The Arthurs’ brougham and its owner beck- 
oning impatiently to her niece, put an end to 
the argument. Phil walked on with Susan, 
who asked how he liked studying law. “ Miss 
Cornelia says you are working very hard,” she 
added. 

“ Phil laughed. “ Miss Cornelia is a peach. 
To tell the truth it doesn’t take much to im- 
press her. She is inclined to spoil me I’m 
afraid.” 


o8 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ I have heard other people say so,” Susan 
remarked, with a little smile. 

“ Well, honestly, I am going to work hard 
after this. It is astonishing how many inter- 
ruptions one has, but IVe turned over a new 
leaf.” 

What a familiar sound this had! Phil often 
reminded Susan of Joe. Perhaps because of 
this, and because reform was in the air, and 
also for the reason that she had a warm liking 
for Phil, and somehow felt much older and 
wiser, she was moved to preach a little. ‘‘ I 
know it is hard to stick at things,” she said. “ I 
am often tempted to stop when work begins 
to be difficult, and go to something else. I 
suppose we all like best to skim along on the 
surface, as Miss Margaret used to say. Per- 
haps you will think it foolish, but the thought 
of the Wise Man helps me when I want to 
shirk.” The color deepened in her cheek. 
“ You remember the little spades we buried, 
and how we promised to be diggers? But 
you’ll think it childish and preaching, Joe used 
to get so cross with me.” 


PHILANTHROPY AND REFORM 59 


There was admiration in the glance Phil 
bent upon her. He was not cross. “ Thank 
you for the sermon, Susan. It is good of you, 
There is something wrong with me. I have 
been no account ever since Anne Mary left. 
Sometimes I think there is nobody who really 
cares, though there are plenty to criticise.” 

Was this the same Phil who a few minutes 
ago was wrangling with Aline? Susan was 
not experienced enough to recognize the weak- 
ness back of the appeal for sympathy. The 
heart of Her Shyness was touched, and a less 
susceptible person than Phil must have been 
stirred by her offer of friendship. They parted 
at her door and she ran upstairs full of the 
joy of helping someone. 

A few days after this she went with Nettie 
to the settlement. She had heard Miss Arthur 
say you couldn’t reform people by sinking to 
their level. Certainly at the Corner House as 
it was called, there was no evidence of sinking, 
or of what you could call reform either. 

It was a queer place. A three story house, 
with what had once been a saloon on the first 


60 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


floor, now a cheerful assembly room, where in 
the evenings all sorts of entertainments and 
meetings for the people of the neighborhood 
were held. In the morning it was used for the 
Kindergarten, in the afternoon for sewing 
classes. On the second floor was the library 
and reading room. The residents lived chiefly 
on the third floor. Miss Tryon said they were 
cramped for space, already, so heartily had the 
people of the district responded. 

It seemed to Susan it must be a great sacri- 
fice on the part of Miss Tryon and her com- 
panions to live in this dusty unattractive part of 
town, but they evidently did not regard it so. 

“ Rebecca never thinks of that,” Nettie said 
as they walked home. “ She is trying to show 
the neighborhood by example, better ways of 
living, and to provide opportunities for help- 
ful recreation, and for learning some useful 
things they can’t learn elsewhere. She says 
she gets the greatest amount of fun out of it. 
She used to be the most fastidious person, but 
she realized that it was a barrier, so she over- 
came it.” 


PHILANTHROPY AND REFORM 61 

Susan had been pleased to have Mrs. Law- 
rence once call her a fastidious little person. 
She had rather plumed herself upon it, and had 
cultivated her small fastidiousnesses. Was it 
all a mistake? If you were afraid of dirty 
children you could not be a free kindergar- 
tener, nor teach in the sewing school. 

“ Why, it is all right to he fastidious, Susan,” 

Nettie said, “ if you don’t let it keep you 
from doing things. It is bigger to overcome, 
than not to mind in the first place.” 

It seemed to be necessary to continually re- 
adjust one’s ideas in these days. 


CHAPTER VI 


CHIEFLY CANDY 

Susan sat in her own room, her elbow on the 
window-sill, watching the rain beating on the 
porch roof. She liked what she called a real 
rainy day; one that kept at it and did not 
change its mind every few minutes. You could 
adapt yourself to certainty. 

She had made some such remark at the 
breakfast table, and Cousin Thomas replied, 
“Yes, almost anybody can do that, but it is 
chiefly to uncertainty we have to adapt our- 
selves, and that’s a lesson worth learning.” 

“ Does anyone ever learn it? ” Mrs. Max- 
well asked wistfully. 

“ To take things as they come? I have 
known some few who had,” said Cousin 
Thomas, contentedly eating his prunes. 

Susan wondered if he was one of these him- 
self. She felt sure Mother was worrying over 
62 


CHIEFLY CANDY 


6S 


the house soon to be left vacant. Necessary 
repairs would eat up most of the rent for 
months, even if a tenant was found at once. 
When she tried to be reassuring she was re- 
minded there would be taxes to pay in January. 
All this had sent her back to her wish to be 
earning something. She hadn’t given up the 
story, but anything that might come from that 
was far in the future. 

The day before, Mrs. Brand had telephoned 
to know if Susan could make her some candy 
as a parting gift to a friend. She had added; 
“ Why not go into the business? I could get 
you a lot of orders.” 

Susan did make delicious and beautiful 
candies. She was constantly trying experi- 
ments and inventing new varities. She sent 
it to her friends on Christmas or on birthdays, 
done up in all sorts of pretty ways. Aline’s 
laughing suggestion made at Browinski’s that 
afternoon, to which she had paid no attention 
at the time, now came back to her. Was there 
anything in it? Could she? Watching the 
busy raindrops, an idea occurred to her. 


64 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


This idea pushed the story upon which she 
had meant to spend the afternoon, into the 
background. She jumped up resolutely and 
got out her hat and raincoat. Five minutes 
later she stood at the Manns’ front door. 

The Manns’ house was as big and shabby and 
full of people as ever. Although Carrie had 
married and gone away, and one of the boys 
was at college, their absence merely made room 
for others. A sister of the doctor’s had come 
to spend the winter, and a nephew of Mrs. 
Mann’s from the country, was staying there 
and going to the high school. Susan usually 
came away from Bessie’s quite content with her 
own peaceful and orderly lot. 

To-day being stormy, things were worse 
than usual. To begin with, Patsy who was 
practicing in the parlor, had looped the lace 
curtains carelessly over the inside shutters 
which were spread wide, and the front-door 
shade was crooked. 

Patsy left her music and let her in. ‘‘ Hello, 
Susan! Isn’t this a horrid day? Yes, Bess is 
in her room, I guess.” 


CHIEFLY CANDY 


65 


“ Patsy! ” called Mrs. Mann over the ban- 
nisters, “ What did I tell you about going to 
the front door? Come up, Susan. The chil- 
dren ruin the servants,” she added, in explana- 
tion. 

As Susan ascended, sounds of revelry came 
from the dining room, and through the half 
open door she had a glimpse of Robin Bright 
and the two youngest Manns playing some 
game on the table. 

Upon Bessie’s young shoulders fell a large 
share of the burden of this lively household. 
Her little room, arranged as a birthday sur- 
prise for her after her illness, was like an oasis 
in the desert, or a clearing in the jungle. She 
kept it in beautiful order, repainted her white 
furniture, and had recently repapered the 
walls out of her own small allowance. It was 
just ceiling paper she explained, but it did 
very well for a small room, and the pink border 
was a remnant she got for almost nothing. 

Susan found her standing by the bed on 
which a half made dress was spread out; 
patterns were scattered about and on the floor 


66 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


lay the latest number of the Grace Fuller 
Magazine. Despair was written on her coun- 
tenance as she faced her visitor. 

“ I just can’t make it hang right,” she ex- 
claimed tragically. “ It looks so perfectly 
simple, but it is no more like Mrs. Fuller’s 
than dark is like daylight.” 

“ What seems to be the trouble in particular? 
Could I help ? ” Susan asked sympathetically, 
privately thinking that what looked well over 
Mrs. Fuller’s generous curves must have an- 
other effect upon the angular Bessie. 

“ Mother and Elbe laugh and say I am a 
goose to try, and I suppose I am, but I thought 
this material Carrie gave me would look so 
pretty made like that tea gown, you remem- 
ber. But it persists in being either too long 
waisted or too short, and — oh I don’t know! — 
It looks silly and poor folksy.” Bessie fiercely 
swept dress, patterns and all, into a heap at 
the foot of the bed, and tossed the magazine 
into the scrap basket. “ Come in and sit down. 
I won’t throw anything at you,” she said, half 
laughing. 


CHIEFLY CANDY 


67 


“ Perhaps it isn’t very consoling, but Nettie 
said Mrs. Bright had the same experience with 
a pattern she tried. She couldn’t get the right 
expression,” Susan said, taking the rocking 
chair. 

“ Mrs. Fuller ought to be sued,” declared 
Bessie, wrathfully. “ I really am glad to see 
you, Susan. Let’s talk about something else. 
You always look so nice. You seem to have 
the right thing for the occasion.” 

Susan glanced down at her raincoat, a ser- 
viceable well-made garment; “ I don’t know,” 
she said. ‘‘ I am wondering now what I’ll wear 
to Lily’s party.” 

“ I have a dress of Carrie’s that she has 
grown too stout for. It is pretty and it almost 
fits. I’ll show it to you.” 

The party dress was pretty and her visitor’s 
admiration made Bessie feel better. After 
some further discussion of clothes, Susan re- 
membered her errand. “ I have something 
special to talk to you about, Bessie,” she said. 
‘‘ I want to make some money ; ” and she un- 
folded the candy plan. “ Miss Margaret and 


68 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Aline both suggested it, and from the few 
orders I have filled I feel sure I could make 
something out of it. But I am not good at un- 
dertaking things by myself, and besides Father 
might need me just when an order came in, so 
I wonder if we could not go into partnership. 
You make lovely candy.” 

The worry cleared away from Bessie’s face. 
“ Susan, it is awfully good of you to ask me. 
It is a grand plan! I am sure we can do it. 
I’ll be glad to help you. Miss Margaret and 
Mrs. Boone can get us lots of orders.” 

“ Suppose we go now and talk it over with 
Miss Margaret? ” proposed Susan. 

Bessie assented and while she was changing 
her dress, Susan turned the leaves of a book 
on nursing that lay on her table. “ There is 
no chance for me ever to study medicine, I 
suppose,” its owner explained, “ so I am go- 
ing to be a trained nurse.” 

“ And in the meantime you’ll go into the 
candy business. One of Cousin Thomas’s 
proverbs is, ‘ Gnaw the bone that has fallen to 


CHIEFLY CANDY 


69 


thy lot.’ Doesn’t that apply to us? ” asked 
Susan. 

“ Is it another version of ‘ Do the thing 
that lieth next you? ’ ” inquired Bessie. “ Well, 
I’m ready, come on.” 

“ Visitors are never so welcome as on a 
rainy day,” was Mrs Brand’s greeting as she 
ran down stairs to meet the girls. “ Let 
Parker have your things, and come into the 
library. We’ll light the fire.” 

‘‘ Lovely ! May I sit on the rug? ” exclaimed 
Susan. 

While the newly-lighted flames curled about 
the logs, the girls unfolded their plan, and 
their friend heard them with enthusiasm. She 
was confident she could get them all the orders 
they could fill, especially near Christmas. 

“ I think we ought to have a name for our 
candy,” Bessie said. “ It will be so much 
easier to advertize it.” 

Susan and Bessie Candy,” Mrs. Brand 
suggested laughing. “I’ll tell you! The T. 
S. Club is to meet here on Thursday, sup- 
pose you ask for suggestions, take a vote and 


70 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


give a prize to the one who proposes the best 
name.” 

“ A Box of candy, of course,” added Susan. 
“ That will be fun. We need not accept the 
name, Bessie, if we do not like it.” 

There was an even more important question 
before the T. S. Club on Thursday night. 
When Tom Mann, the President called the 
meeting to order he announced a discussion 
of the object of the club. Was it to be liter- 
ary or ” 

“ Something more vital,” put in Aline, mak- 
ing use of a favorite phrase. 

Grayson Anderson wished to know if that 
meant Womans’ Rights? 

“ If you mean Womans’ Suffrage, yes, and 
many other things besides. Socialism and 
questions of the day.” 

Tom rapped for order. “ Members are re- 
quested to address the chair and speak one at 
a time. We will hear first from Miss Arthur, 
as she seems to have a great deal to say.” 

Aline was in an ardent mood, and quoted. 


CHIEFLY CANDY 


71 


‘‘We are living, we are dwelling 
In a grand and awful time; 

In an age on ages telling, 

To be living is sublime.” 

“ Mr. President,” said Phil, “ the first line 
of that poem worries me so, I can’t get beyond 
it. Living and dwelling are surely tautologi- 
cal.” 

“ They are not the same thing at all,” cried 
Aline. 

“ If you are living, you are dwelling some- 
where, unless you are a tramp. And if you 
are dwelling somewhere, you are living, aren’t 
you?” demanded Phil. 

“ Unless you are boarding,” said Nettie, 
laughing. 

Tom in an amiable effort to pour oil on the 
waters suggested amending the line to read: 

“ Oh, my brothers, we are dwelling.” 

“ But that leaves out the sisters,” Susan 
suggested with a twinkle. 

“ Good for you. We’ll make it: 


172 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ Brothers, sisters, we are — &c” 
laughed Phil. 

“ I don’t believe you ever have a serious 
moment, any of you,” said Aline hotly. “ The 
author of the lines will be deeply obliged to 
you no doubt.” 

Mrs. Brand who had entered during- the 
discussion, was appealed to. She had been 
elected an honorary member of the club, 
which she declared meant that at least half 
their meetings were to be at Christmas Tree 
House. 

“ Aline can’t see a joke,” Phil complained. 

“ What do you think Miss Margaret? ” 
asked Bessie. 

“ I think several things. That the original 
question has been lost sight of, for one, and 
also with Aline, that in spite of some imper- 
fections the lines she quoted are stirring. Al- 
most anything can be made to seem funny if 
you begin to exercise your nimble wits upon 
it, and the conclusion of my reflections is, that 
the person who feels ‘ To be living is sublime,’ 
is the one who is going to do things. Some of 


CHIEFLY CANDY 


73 


us are so afraid of being earnest we are in 
danger of being flippant.” 

This was as Grayson said, a settler. Order 
was restored, and eventually a compromise 
program decided on, and a committee ap- 
pointed. The club members then adjourned 
to the supper table, where later on, the candy 
plan of two of their number was explained by 
the hostess, and possible names called for. 

“ Susan Sweets ” proposed Phil, promptly. 

‘‘ But they are Bessie’s too,” Susan ob- 
jected. 

Then call it S. and B. Candy, — Sweetest 
and Best,” said Grayson. 

“ Call it Daffodil Candy,” said Aline. 
“ Don’t you remember Bessie’s daffodil tea? 
Put it up in yellow boxes and baskets.” 

“ I see a sweet grass basket with a yel- 
low silk top; Price $2.00 filled,” exclaimed 
Nettie. 

“ But won’t it be a lot of work? ” asked 
Lily. 

“ Of course, but Susan and Bessie are dig- 
gers by nature,” explained Phil. “ If they 


74 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


take Aline’s name, we shall have to alter the 
classics. It will be, 

The poet’s heart with pleasure fills 
At thought of eating daffodils.” 

After due consideration there seemed greater 
possibilities in Aline’s name than in any other, 
and it was adopted. Thus the candy venture 
was launched with the good wishes of its 
friends. Colonel Brand was greatly interested 
in the scheme, and offered to finance it. Mrs. 
Boone was certain they would make a fortune, 
for she said, you were offered candy every- 
where in these days, except at funerals. 

“ How are you going to find time for every- 
thing, Susan? ” her mother asked, a little 
doubtfully. 

“ Oh, I think I can do it, mother,” Susan 
replied, but she wondered regretfully if she 
would ever have a minute t© give to her story. 


CHAPTER VII 


BETWEEN TIMES 

“ Mother I have gone into a new business ! 
You can’t guess what.” 

Mrs. Maxwell looked up from her letter at 
her daughter’s merry face. Behind Susan in 
the dining room door stood Susie Flynn. 

“ I think you have enough to do now, with- 
out undertaking anything else,” she said. 
“ Mrs. Moore has just called up to know if 
you could let her have five pounds of candy 
on Friday afternoon.” 

“ Good! Of course we can. This is some- 
thing quite different. I am going to be a 
real estate agent. I have found you a tenant 
for the little house. That is if Miss Tillie likes 
it, and I think she will. Won’t you go over 
there with us after dinner? If it suits, Susie 
and I will attend to repairs.” The two smiled 
gayly at each other. 


76 


76 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


‘‘Why, Susan,’’ her mother began doubt- 
fully, “ I rather think I’d better let Carrol 
and Bate take it. Colonel Brand recommends 
them. It will be very nice to have Miss Tillie 
take the house, but there will probably be a 
good deal to be done to it.” 

“ Carrol and Bate will charge for it, mother, 
and I won’t. We’ll save that, and Susie and 
I will have such fun looking at wall paper and 
things. Please let me.” 

“ I had not thought of there being any fun 
in it,” Mrs. Maxwell said, smiling at their 
eagerness. “Well, I’ll see.” 

“ Which being interpreted means, she will,” 
Susan assured her companion. “ Susie and I 
are going to get the nuts ready for to-morrow, 
then when Bessie comes over we’ll get a lot 
done.” 

Susie Flynn was fifteen, but very small for 
her age. Her spine would never be quite 
straight, but thanks to skillful treatment she 
could walk now, and was much stronger in 
every way than would have seemed possible at 
one time. She had a sweet face and gentle 


BETWEEN TIMES 


77 


manners and adored the young ladies who had 
been her friends since the days of the sewing 
circle which had met at the Brocade Lady’s 
and made clothes for Lenore, the big doll, 
which she still cherished. Never able to stand 
the confinement of school, Susie had never- 
theless picked up a surprising amount of use- 
ful knowledge. There was always someone 
ready to give her lessons and supply her with 
books. 

She was a great help to her aunt, the busy 
dressmaker, who declared she was the best lit- 
tle housekeeper in the world. 

The possibility of Miss Tillie’s taking the 
house occurred to Susan as she watched the 
dressmaker pinning and adjusting Bessie’s 
unfortunate tea gown. Miss Tillie needed a 
little more room, and did not want to go far 
from her present location. She was interested 
in the Maxwell’s house at once. After Bessie 
had gone Susan remained to talk it over. 

When matters had been arranged with the 
proviso that Mother was willing. Miss Tillie’s 
attention once more turned to the tea gown. 


78 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ The idea of a person like Miss Bessie think- 
ing they’d look well in a princess,” she ex- 
claimed. “ Now, it wouldn’t be so bad on 
you, though I do hope you ain’t going to try 
reform styles. There’s some persons with fig- 
ures and there’s others that build up well, 
and yet others that do your best, are beyond 
you.” 

The first view of the recently vacated house 
disheartened Susan. The departing tenants 
had left it in a forlorn condition, but Miss 
Tillie’s vision was not obscured by the dirt and 
disorder. She was able to see all sorts of pleas- 
ant possibilities. 

“ My goodness! ” she exclaimed, “ It is plain 
you haven’t moved much if you think this is 
so bad. Soap and water with plenty of elbow 
grease, and a little paint and paper, will make 
it fine as a fiddle. Didn’t I tell you, Susie, a 
place would turn up if we didn’t worry.” 

“ And won’t I be glad to live in a house 
with stair steps,” cried her niece, whose life 
had been spent thus far in a cottage. 

“ Imagine being excited over stairs,” Susan 


BETWEEN TIMES 


79 


said to her mother on their way home. Mr. 
Maxwell just in from a drive in the crisp air, 
wanted to know where they had been, and 
laughed when she had gayly explained, at the 
idea of his little girl attending to business. 

‘‘ I am learning a great deal. Father,” she 
said. “ That is the good of having to.” 

At this he shook his head sadly. “ I am glad 
if any good can come from such an ill wind,” 
he remarked. 

It seemed best as Mother suggested to say 
nothing about the candy unless he noticed and 
asked. 

Orders for daffodil candy came thick and 
fast, so that between times meant not leisure 
but other work. For a week or two there was 
much running back and forth in quest of car- 
penters and painters, with Susie for assistant. 
They were warned that it was a busy time of 
year and it would be hard to get things done, 
but there must have been some magic in their 
young enthusiasm, for workmen stopped other 
jobs to attend to theirs. Miss Tillie knew a 
carpenter who belonged to her brother’s lodge. 


80 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


and Dressel the painter, said ‘ Ladies first,’ 
when Carrol and Bate called up to know the 
reason for his delay in doing some of their 
work. “ You see,” he explained, “ I had to 
help Miss Maxwell when she was attending to 
things for her pa. Mr. Maxwell has been kind 
to me.” 

Selecting the paper was most fun. Susie 
had implicit confidence in Miss Susan’s taste, 
and Miss Tillie didn’t wish to be bothered. 
The yellow brown tints of the work rooms, 
were not in truth exactly to her taste, however. 
“ It does seem to me I’d have had some roses,” 
she told Susie. “ Still it’s clean.” And there 
were roses upstairs. 

One afternoon as she gave directions to a 
man who was repairing the front fence, Susan 
saw the tenant of the Brocade Lady’s cottage 
approaching, accompanied by Rufus. Her 
heart gave a jump, she didn’t know why, ex- 
cept that she was wishing to see this strange 
person again. 

The lady held out her hand. “ You haven’t 
been to see me,” she said reproachfully. 






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BETWEEN TIMES 


81 


Susan grew very pink. “ I have been busy/’ 
she explained. 

“ I have heard about you,” Miss Story went 
on.” By the way two of your friends called 
the other day, Mrs. Brand and Mrs. Boone. 
Mrs. Brand I inferred is the Miss Margaret 
of the little school you told me about. You 
see I remembered.” She smiled, and Susan 
for some reason felt immensely flattered. 
Then she demanded to know what Susan was 
doing, and appeared greatly amused at her re- 
ply. I should never have dreamed it. Come 
and take a walk with me.” 

To decline was impossible. Miss Story 
aroused all her shyness and yet exercised a 
strange fascination over her. She stirred her 
imagination and piqued her curiosity. It 
pleased her to be thus sought. She was sure 
Miss Story must like her. 

They talked about all sorts of things as 
they walked, books, music and pictures. Many 
of Miss Story’s favorites were unknown to 
Susan. The lady who contrived by adroit 
questions that scarcely seemed questions, to 


82 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


draw her on to talk about herself and her 
friends, appeared much amused over the dress 
reform lecture and interested in the settle- 
ment. 

When Susan quoted Aline’s opinion that 
the T. S. Club should give their time to some- 
thing more vital than mere literature, to her 
surprise Miss Story remarked, “ How nar- 
row! Where would you get your inspira- 
tion if it were not for literature and the other 
arts? If your soul was not fed, what would 
your work amount to? ’’ 

To Susan this was a new idea. She had 
thought of religious things, — the Bible and 
church as the only food for the soul. 

‘‘ Don’t be onesided, Susan,” Miss Story 
added. — “ You don’t mind my calling you 
Susan, I hope? It is such a dear, homey name, 
and you seem such a child to me.” 

Susan did not mind in the least, instead she 
was thrilled. 

Miss Story wanted Susan to show her the 
Wise Man’s tablet, so leaving Rufus at home 
they went into St. Marks’. The church was 


BETWEEN TIMES 


83 


empty and quiet and as Susan liked it best, 
with the late sunshine on the chancel windows. 
Hand in hand they walked up the broad aisle, 
read the inscription, and then sat on the chan- 
cel step and gazed at Elsie’s window, while 
Susan told how by associating the line ‘ Fair 
as a star,’ with this friend, she had first come to 
understand what poetry was. 

“ How peaceful and beautiful it seems ! ” 
Miss Story exclaimed, pressing Susan’s hand. 
“ It makes me long to be wise and gentle. It 
seems to say that in spite of the bitter past, life 
may still be worth while.” Her voice quivered 
over the last word. A moment more and she 
was smiling into Susan’s eyes, and apologizing 
for being sentimental. 

When they parted at the gate she said, 
‘‘ Good-bye, Susan. You will come to see me, 
won’t you? And sometime you must call me 
Joanna. I am not so very old. It is meant 
that we should be friends, so why waste time 
beginning? ” 

Yes, Joanna — Susan could call her so in her 
thought, — was a little like Holliday. She had 


84 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


felt it from the first. Although she had grown 
used to doing without her friend, she had not 
ceased to miss her. Joanna was the only per- 
son she had found who possessed that same 
many sided charm. Holliday was only a girl, 
Joanna a woman of the world. Susan was sure 
of this though she could scarcely have told 
what woman of the world meant. 

And she likes me,” she said to herself, 
dreamily, as she sat at the table in Silvy’s 
bright kitchen next day, dipping chocolate 
drops. “ She has had some great sorrow. 
Some day she will tell me.” 

“May I come in?” asked Nettie Try on’s 
voice at the door. “ Your mother said I’d find 
you here. What a lovely kitchen! ” 

“ Come in and have a chocolate npt, just off 
the vine,” invited Susan. 

“It is a shame to rob you, hut I can’t re- 
sist.” Nettie drew a chair to the table. “ Have 
you seen Lily’s invitations? Of course you 
are going. What are you going to wear? ” 

In the midst of a discussion of party frocks, 
Nettie interrupted herself to exclaim, “ By the 


BETWEEN TIMES 


85 


way, Susan, did you know our charming neigh- 
bor turns out to be Mrs, Story, not Miss, as we 
thought. She returned our call the other day. 
I found her card on the table, Mrs. Meredith 
R. Story. Of course Uncle Rob knew it. She 
is a widow. Isn’t that interesting? ” 

Interesting no doubt, but it made Joanna 
seem a stranger again. It made necessary a 
readjustment of all her impressions. The un- 
happiness she referred to must have been be- 
cause of the death of her husband, then, Susan 
thought. 

“ She admires you very much, Susan,” Net- 
tie added. “ She spoke of you the day Aunt 
Alice and I were there.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE CLAIMS OP SOCIETY 

“ It was all very well for Susan to say she 
wasn’t going out this winter, but it was under- 
stood that Lily’s party was to be an excep- 
tion,” Mrs. Boone said, and continued to argue 
about it long after it was settled. She had set 
her heart on having Lily’s old friends and her 
own with them on the important occasion. It 
was the last large party she expected to give. 
By the time Frances Willard and Lily’s sister, 
Grace, came on she would be too old for such 
things. 

“ Now, Mrs. Boone, that’s all nonsense,” as- 
serted Mr. Maxwell, who entered the room in 
time to hear her last remark. On his good days 
he enjoyed a chat with this kindly, lively neigh- 
bor, and the sound of her voice had brought 
him to the parlor. “ Four or five years aren’t 
going to see you on the shelf,” he added. 


THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY 87 

“ Perhaps not quite on the shelf, but an af- 
fair like this is a great strain, Mr. Maxwell. 
Take the matter of invitations alone. They are 
to be very general, and I am almost prostrated 
for fear I have overlooked someone. Some of 
them, as certain as fate, will go astray ! Then it 
means literally taking the house to pieces. I 
have asked the older people from four to seven, 
and I want the men to come. I am going to 
have a real supper. By the way I sent an in- 
vitation to your friend Mrs. Story, Susan,” 
§he said as that young person came in, accom- 
panied by Lily. 

“Is she Susan’s friend in particular?” 
asked Mrs. Maxwell. 

“ Well, it was she who first made her ac- 
quaintance. Margaret Brand and I called, 
you know, and it gave me the queerest sensa- 
tion to be in the Brocade Lady’s house with so 
many of her things about and yet everything 
so different. Mrs. Story is very good looking 
and quite at her ease, but I can’t rid myself 
of the feeling there is something strange about 
her. I shall never as long as I live get over 


88 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Mr. Lemoyne. That experience I suppose 
makes me suspicious.’’ 

“ But Mr. Bright knows all about her, 
doesn’t he? ” asked Susan. 

“ I don’t know whether he does or not. Men 
are so easily taken in, where a pretty woman 
is concerned. It is true, Mr. Maxwell, you 
needn’t shake your head. That letter from the 
Bishop might be forged for aught we know. 
However, I sent her an invitation.” 

“ I wonder why she doesn’t wear a widow’s 
cap and veil,” said Lily. “ They would be so 
becoming. It must be very romantic to be a 
widow.” 

“Aren’t girls geese? Listen to that, will 
you! ” exclaimed her grandmother, in an aside. 

“ She doesn’t wear mourning at all. Don’t 
you think it’s funny? ” Lily continued. 

“ She wears only black and white, I think,” 
Susan answered. “ And Nettie says Mr. 
Story has been dead several years.” It was 
clear, however, that Lily felt Mrs. Story was 
not living up to her opportunities. 

As she made her preparations, Susan was 


THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY 


89 


more than once reminded of that other party 
so long ago, at which she had first met Dick, 
and renewed her acquaintance with Elsie Sey- 
mour. How Holliday laughed at her for be- 
ing afraid, and what a good time she had had! 
Even now she was a little afraid at the thought 
of a big party, but this time she was to receive, 
— a new and exciting experience. 

A box came from Aunt Emily too, as on that 
other occasion. “ A Christmas gift in ad- 
vance,” she wrote, and when it was opened, 
there lay the most bewitching creation of tulle 
and rosebuds. Nothing could be lovelier she 
thought as she hung over it. Then with her 
first candy money she proudly bought her 
gloves and slippers. 

To cap the climax, on the morning of the im- 
portant day, arrived some La France roses 
with Dick Seymour’s card. 

“How nice of Dick! and how lucky they 
are pink,” Mrs. Maxwell exclaimed. 

“ Of course he has sent Lily flowers,” Susan 
said coolly, but beneath a calm exterior she 
was glowing with pleasure. It was nice of 


90 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Dick. And she had not seen him for two 
years. 

“ Susan, you do look sweet, I wish Aunt 
Emily could see you, I have always con- 
sidered blue your color, but nothing could be 
more becoming than those touches of pink ! ” 
her mother said, standing off to enjoy the 
effect of her daughter’s toilet. 

“ Mercy me ! Mrs. Maxwell, when you are 
young you can wear most anything. Pink or 
blue, don’t matter much,” Miss Tillie rose from 
her knees and stepped back in her turn. 

“ It is a pretty dress, isn’t it? ” Susan said 
clasping her little pearl necklace around her 
throat and smiling at her reflection in the 
glass. 

“ I declare to goodness. Miss Susan, I feel 
like you was going to be married,” Silvy 
cried. 

“ Don’t suggest such a thing, Silvy,” pro- 
tested Mrs. Maxwell. “ Remember she’s my 
only little girl.” 

“ You need not be alarmed. Mother,” 
laughed Susan. 


THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY 


91 


Susie Flynn clasped her hands in an ecstasy, 
of admiration. “ You are a fairy princess, 
Miss Susan, that’s what you are ! ” she said 
earnestly. “ I never saw anything so beauti- 
ful.” 

Wouldn’t it be fun if Holliday were 
here? ” sighed Susan. “ She was always 
lovelier than anybody. 

“ I didn’t know I had such a pretty daugh- 
ter,” her father exclaimed laying down his 
book when she came in to show herself off. 
“ You are a perfect rosebud of a girl.” 

It was pleasant to be admired, particularly 
to have Father and Mother so proud of her. 
Susan went off to her party with a very con- 
tented heart, carrying her roses. 

Lily’s floral tributes were numerous and 
splendid, and Lily herself in filmy floating 
white was really beautiful. 

“ You are all perfectly charming,” was Mrs. 
Boone’s verdict. 

It was one of the handsomest entertain- 
ments the town had ever seen. The large 
house was lavishly decorated with flowers and 


92 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


southern smilax and the hostess in black velvet 
and Mechlin lace, with her children and grand- 
children around her, was a sight not soon to be 
forgotten. Looking back on Lily’s coming 
out party, there were several incidents that 
stood out in Susan’s memory. 

One of these was a conversation with Mr. 
Seymour. Her acquaintance with him was 
slight, and she was surprised to discover him 
at her elbow, holding out his hand, with, “ How 
do you do. Miss Susan? I haven’t seen you 
for a long time.” 

He was an unpopular man, having a reputa- 
tion for haughtiness, which was in part merely 
an unfortunate manner, and Susan in spite of 
her alarm at having to talk to him, divined that 
he was feeling ill at case and out of place, im- 
portant person though he was. She was sur- 
prised too, to discover a likeness to Dick that 
she had not suspected before. At any rate, 
for some reason, she was more cordial than 
usual, and smiling over her roses, replied that 
she was very well. 

“ Upon my word you look it! ” the gentle- 


THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY 


93 


man said, with evident admiration. “ I have 
been hearing lately that you are becoming a 
first-rate business woman,” he continued. 

Susan thought he must mean daffodil candy, 
but he went on to say that Colonel Brand had 
told him how she had found a tenant for a va- 
cant house, and undertaken all the business 
connected with the repairs, instead of giving 
it to an agent. 

She tried to explain that she had just hap- 
pened to find the tenant, and that the rest had 
been fun. “ I am afraid I don’t know much 
about business, but now Father is ill. Mother 
and I try to manage.” 

“ You are a very fine girl to undertake 
such things. I regret your father’s illness ex- 
tremely, and if I can ever be of any service to 
you I should be gratified to have you call on 
me.” 

Susan grew pink as her roses at this rather 
pompous, but kind offer, and was relieved to 
have to turn to speak to someone else. 

“There is your strange Story, Susan,” 


94 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Aline whispered. “ Over there with Mrs. 
Bright. Isn’t she stunning? ” 

It was indeed Joanna, looking far from 
Lily’s ideal of a widow, in her white plumes. 

“ I don’t know why I came,” she told Susan, 
later on, drawing her aside. — “ Unless it was 
to see you, for I loathe receptions. Aren’t you 
coming to see me very soon? I have so much 
to talk to you about.” 

“ I am so glad you came, Mrs. Story,” Net- 
tie Tryon’s voice interrupted, as she joined 
them. “ Bessie and I are overcome, Susan, at 
your flirtation with Mr. Seymour. Aren’t her 
roses lovely? And she won’t tell us who sent 
them.” 

Susan smiled demurely. “ I haven’t been 
asked,” she said. 

Joanna gave her one of her searching 
glances. “ I trust who ever it was will be here 
to see you,” she remarked. After Nettie had 
left them she added, ‘‘ You are a charming 
little girl, but I wish you wouldn’t be so shy 
with me. I feel as if something had come be- 
tween us.” 


THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY 


95 


Susan blushed guiltily. 

“ Come to see me to-morrow afternoon, 
can’t you?” And Susan agreed to do so, if 
Father did not need her. 

Mrs. Boone was an indefatigable hostess and 
had besides admirable assistants in her daugh- 
ter, Mrs. Willard, and her friend Mrs. Brand. 
If anybody failed to have a good time it must 
have been their own fault. Susan went home 
rosy and happy, feeling that she could not pos- 
sibly have enjoyed herself more. 

The only thing that occurred to mar Lily’s 
party in the least was some talk about Phil. 
Susan remembered afterwards that he had 
seemed excited, when she danced with him, 
and had talked rather foolishly, although at the 
time she thought very little about it. Phil had 
a foolish way of carrying on. It was only 
when Bessie questioned her that she recalled it. 

You didn’t stay as late as some of us,” 
Bessie said. “ It was very noticeable before 
we left.” 

‘‘ But there wasn’t any wine, was there? I 
thought Mrs. Boone ” 


96 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ Oh, he didn’t get it there, Susan, of course. 
Phil is too much with those Townsends. Tom 
says he is very easily influenced,” she added. 

Mrs. Boone swept the whole matter aside. 
She had seen nothing wrong, and she was no 
infant. Phil was always a gentleman. It was 
that unfortunate affair at college that made 
people suspicious. Susan who had felt un- 
happy after talking to Bessie was cheered by 
Mrs. Boone’s view. She liked Phil, and he 
seemed to like her. They were good friends. 
She thought of the buried box, with the prom- 
ise to be comrades and stand by each other, and 
the little spades to be some day redeemed. 
How could she stand by Phil? 

She was thinking about it as she walked 
homewards one afternoon, her head bent, her 
hands clasped in her squirrel muff, when 
Phil’s voice behind her caused her to start 
guiltily. 

“ I have been pursuing you for two blocks. 
Miss Demurity,” he said gayly. “ I would 
have overtaken you before but for dodging 
Miss Mattie Grayson. I took refuge in the 


THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY 


97 


drug-store till she passed. Horrid old gossip ! 
I hear I am her latest victim.’’ 

Susan’s color deepened by the frosty air, 
grew deeper yet, as she smiled up at him. 
“ Are you certain you haven’t given her just 
a little excuse? ” she asked. 

The gayety faded from Phil’s face. ‘‘ I 
thought you were my friend,” he said. “ Do 
you believe everything you hear? ” 

“ I think I am,” Susan insisted steadily. “ I 
think I am being a friend. And I’ll say this, 
if you tell me there hasn’t been any cause for 
gossip about you, — I mean since you came 
home. I’ll believe you.” She lifted grave, in- 
quiring eyes. 

“ Hang it! Susan,” he burst out almost an- 
grily, “ I am not a saint, and never pretended 
to be.” 

Susan was silent. Her heart beat very fast. 
Phil strode along by her side looking like a 
thunder cloud, and they proceeded thus for a 
block. Then amiability triumphed. 

It is you who are a saint, Susan, and just 
for that reason you could never understand. 


98 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


But I believe you are my friend. Of course, 
I have not always, — that is — Oh I suppose 
there has been some cause, but people are so 
ready to exaggerate. A fellow has hardly a 
chance.” 

It ended in Susan’s preaching a forceful, 
little sermon on plain duty, while Phil watched 
her admiringly, at least appreciating the inter- 
est that prompted the moralizing. On the 
lapel of his coat appeared about this time a 
small enameled class pin of hers. She let 
him have it under protest. It would help to 
remind him that somebody cared, he said, and 
thus urged she gave in reluctantly. She had 
worn it very seldom at home, and nobody, un- 
less it was Bessie, was likely to recognize it. 
She could explain to her. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE HEART OF KNIGHTHOOD 

Before going to Mrs. Story’s the afternoon 
after the party, Susan stopped at the library. 
On the desk lay a new book she very much 
wanted; The Heart of Knighthood^ by John 
Justin. 

“ It is just in,” the librarian remarked face- 
tiously. 

A new book invariably caused a flutter of 
joyful anticipation in Susan’s breast. As she 
turned towards the Brocade Lady’s cottage 
she could not resist an occasional peep within 
its covers. 

Mrs. Story’s elderly maid admitted her, and 
showed her into the sitting-room. In the 
hall a messenger boy waited. With the door 
closed upon her, Susan became at once con- 
scious of the impression of mingled strangeness 
99 


100 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


and familiarity, as if from the semblance of an 
old friend, a new personality was speaking. 

It was very quiet, and Joanna did not come 
at once, so settling herself comfortably she 
opened The Heart of Knighthood, and was 
presently lost to her surroundings. 

When she heard Joanna’s voice exclaiming, 
“ My dear child you must forgive me for keep- 
ing you so long,” she had no idea how long it 
had been. 

Mrs. Story was full of graceful apologies. 
She feept Susan’^ hand in hers as she sat be- 
side her on the sofa. It was one of those tire- 
some comphcations. An acquaintance from a 
distance was in town and had sent to know 
when she could receive him. “ I was not going 
to have oiu* afternoon together entirely spoiled, 
so I said half-past four. That will give us an 
hour and a half.” 

It was flattering that Joanna cared enough 
for her society to put off this probably im- 
portant visitor. Susan responded warmly, if 
shyly, to her greeting, dimpling, smiling and 
glowing as she did when she was happy. 


THE HEART OF KNIGHTHOOD 101 


“ I mustn’t make you vain, but you were 
charming yesterday, little Susanna. I watched 
you talking to that gray moustache. Do you 
know you often hide your hght under a bushel? 
It is a shame when you can be so charming. 
And now tell me what made you so very formal 
towards me? 

“ I didn’t know I was,” faltered Susan. 

“ Yes, you were. I felt it. I am very sen- 
sitive to any change of inward attitude in 
persons I care for. Had you heard something 
about me? ” Joanna’s eyes — such wonderfully 
keen eyes, for all their softness, seemed search- 
ing her very soul. 

Susan’s own glance sought the floor, she 
hesitated, and then to her utter surprise found 
herself, under that compelling pressure, own- 
ing up. 

“And you didn’t know I was married! I 
hope you do not think any the less of me? I 
certainly have not made a secret of it, and 
it is scarcely a crime.” Joanna smiled at 
her. 

Susan, all confusion, hastened to disclaim 


102 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


any such thought. “ It was only that — she 
cried flutteringly. 

“ Never mind, child. I understand. Some- 
day, Susan, I should like to tell you about my- 
self. Not that there is anything interesting, 
but friends should know each other. I can’t 
do it just now. It is painful to me. It is not 
good for me to think too much about Joanna 
Story, and dwelling upon my not happy past, 
makes me pity myself. I shall ask you to take 
me on trust for a while, — to believe I am not 
unworthy of your friendship.” 

Trust her? indeed Susan would. Mrs. 
Story must never tell her anything that gave 
her pain. 

“ Thank you, dear, you shall have it some 
time.” Joanna pressed her lips to Susan’s 
cheek. “ What is your book? ” she asked. 

Susan held it up. “ I have only begun it. 
Have you read it? ” 

"'The Heart of Knighthood? Yes.” 

“ Do you like it? ” 

“ Yes, in a way, very much.” There was an 
odd hesitation in Joanna’s manner. “ Yes, 


THE HEART OF KNIGHTHOOD 103 


really I like it. It has faults, — but we’ll dis- 
cuss it after you have read it.” 

As Susan descended the cottage steps, Mrs. 
Story’s visitor came in the gate. Her one 
glance gave her the impression of a dignified, 
gentlemanly person. A carriage waited at the 
curb. 

Miss Mattie Grayson stood at her door and 
beckoned Susan over, “ Who is that gentle- 
man,” she demanded. 

Rather impatiently Susan replied that she 
did not know. 

“ People aren’t usually mysterious unless 
they have something to hide. Mrs. Story is 
certainly mysterious,” Miss Mattie affirmed. 

“ Therefore she must have something to 
hide,” added Susan, laughing. “ I don’t see 
anything mysterious in having a man call on 
you.” 

“ Perhaps not if that were all. Come in, 
Susan, for a moment, can’t you? I promised 
your mother a crochet pattern.” 

This invitation was accepted with reluc- 
tance. Susan was not fond of Miss Grayson. 


104j 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Miss Mattie and her sister, Mrs. Murphy, were 
known to the younger generation as the old 
maids. Mrs. Boone alluded to them as the 
Grayson girls. Having few responsibilities 
of their own, they took an excessive interest 
in the affairs of other people. With them, 
looking out of the window took the place of 
novel reading. Mrs. Bright, the Rector’s wife, 
said she owed Mrs. Story a debt of gratitude 
for diverting their attention from her. 

Susan, waiting impatiently while Miss 
Mattie looked for the pattern, was regaled with 
their latest discoveries by Mrs. Murphy, that 
lady’s ingenuity having failed to extract from 
her anything more enlightening than “ I really 
don’t know.” 

Mrs. Murphy was most anxious to find out 
how this new neighbor of hers spent her morn- 
ings. “No one ever sees her before one 
o’clock,” she told Susan, and Miss Mattie 
added, “ She won’t even come to the tele- 
phone.” 

“ I thought at first she must stay in bed, 
but her windows are wide open at eight, and 


THE HEART OF KNIGHTHOOD 105 


she couldn’t be sleeping with the sun stream- 
ing in.” 

“ Robin Bright says,” continued Miss Mat- 
tie, ‘‘ that she spends her time in the room 
Margaret Kennedy had when she lived with 
the Brocade Lady. Has she ever taken you 
up there? ” 

“ This is the second time I have been in the 
house since she has lived in it, and the first 
time I was there only a few minutes,” Susan 
explained. 

‘‘ Robin says her maid is as cross as she can 
be. Of course I don’t know, but the whole 
appearance of things is peculiar, to say the 
least. She is such a handsome woman too.” 
Mrs. Murphy sighed, as if it were a great 
hardship to be forced to be suspicious. 

“ Did you ask Robin what he had done to 
Maria? ” Susan asked, rising as Miss Mattie 
handed her the pattern. “ He has probably 
made her life a burden.” 

“It is really strange that his father does 
not control him, now isn’t it? ” Miss Mattie 


106 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


exclaimed. “ Mrs. Bright, I suppose, is in an 
embarrassing position as stepmother, but ” 

iThe only way to escape from these talkative 
ladies was in the midst of a sentence. Susan 
left without hearing Mrs. Bright’s duty de- 
fined. 

All this foolish talk about Joanna only 
aroused her loyalty. How lovely and gracious 
she was ! If she chose to live quietly, and keep 
her own counsel, whose business was it, but her 
own? 

Susan went around by Miss Tillie’s to en- 
gage Susie’s services for the next morning, and 
as she came out she encountered Robin Bright 
and Florrie Mann, engaged in the innocent 
amusement of ringing door-bells and inquiring 
if someone, whom their imaginations had en- 
dowed with an impossible name, lived there. 
Just where lay the exquisite pleasure of this 
performance, it was hard for the more mature 
mind to fathom, but they were beside them- 
selves with glee as they confided their method 
to her. 

‘‘ Some day you will get caught,” she warned 


THE HEART OF KNIGHTHOOD 107 


them, and then reflected that this possibility 
was what made the fun. 

One Saturday afternoon, not long after 
Susan’s talk with Phil Grant, she and Aline 
met him and Grayson Anderson at the scene 
of a large fire which had occurred the night 
before. A cracker factory had been destroyed 
and some adjoining buildings, and the ruins 
attracted a crowd of sightseers. While they 
were chatting together Mrs. Story and Rufus 
came towards them. 

Aline had met her at Mrs. Boone’s, and 
Susan presented the young men, and after a 
few minutes they all walked on in the same 
direction. Phil beside Joanna, in front, Susan, 
Aline and Grayson behind. 

There was nothing in Phil’s manner to-day 
to suggest he had ever been despondent. He 
talked and laughed with Mrs. Story as if she 
were an old friend, treating her with that 
graceful easy deference, which was his greatest 
charm. 

“ Do look at old Phil! ” Grayson exclaimed. 


108 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ How does he always know what to say to 
people? ” 

“ He has the social gift, and so has Mrs. 
Story,” Aline answered; “ They ought to get 
on together.” 

Almost at the cottage gate they met Nettie 
Tryon, and Joanna exclaimed, “ Do come in 
all of you out of this chilly wind; I’ll stir the 
fire and make tea. Come in and cheer my 
loneliness. 

Nobody seemed to think of refusing, and 
the Brocade Lady’s sitting-room was, a few 
minutes later, all alive with bright faces, and 
laughing voices. Conversation was, it chanced, 
chiefly about The Heart of Knighthood 
which Nettie had in her hand, and which all 
but Grayson had read. 

Aline, always positive in her opinions, did 
not care for it. “I prefer stories about the 
present,” she said. “ Why go back to knights 
and crusades, when life here and now is so 
full of interest? ” 

“ That is rather a matter of taste; isn’t it? ” 
Mrs. Story asked. “ Human nature is much 


THE HEART OF KNIGHTHOOD 109 

the same in every age. The quest of the knight 
of to-day may be just as important, more so, 
if you please, but I insist it is not so pictur- 
esque.” 

Susan agreed with Joanna. She loved 
knights and tourneys and floating banners. 

“ How much more inspiring to mount a 
charger and go forth to battle for your lady, 
than to be told to dig,” said Phil, with a whim- 
sical glance at Susan. 

“ Oh, but — ” she cried, coming to the de- 
fence of the Wise Man, “ You can build your 
tower as high as you please after you have 
your foundation. Being a knight like Alaric 
can’t have been an easy matter. He had to 
dig.” 

‘‘ Possibly those knights of old did not feel 
as picturesque as they look to us,” suggested 
Nettie. 

So the discussion went on, their hostess tak- 
ing very little part in it, sitting there, ‘‘ Like 
some beautiful Reynolds or Romney portrait, 
in her plumy hat,” Aline said afterwards. 

Aline spent the night with Susan, and as 


110 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


girls love to do, they sat before the fire in their 
dressing-gowns, talking till midnight. 

“ Do you know? ” Aline said, ‘‘ I have a 
queer feeling that Mrs. Story knows John 
Justin.” 

“ Have you really? Why? ” asked Susan. 

“ I don’t quite know. It was something in 
her manner.” 

‘‘ But if she knows him I should think she 
would have said so. How interesting to know 
a person who writes like John Justin.” 

“ I have noticed, Susan, that she is not ex- 
actly a communicative person,” Aline re- 
marked, smiling. 

“ No, she isn’t,” Susan owned. “ I don’t 
know much about her. Aline, but I am sure the 
reason she does not talk about herself is partly 
because there has been something very sad in 
her life.” 

“ I believe you feel about her as I do about 
Rebecca Tryon,” Aline said. “ She is my 
ideal. I took dinner there last week, and oh! 
everything is so worth while.” 


CHAPTER X, 


AT THE SEAT OF WAR 

In a letter to her friend, Holliday Hey- 
wood, written shortly before Christmas, Susan 
said: — “ Lily is so deep in society she has time 
for nothing else; Aline is in as far as her aunt 
can drag her, Nettie, Bessie and I dip in oc- 
casionally. I come up rather breathless and 
not quite sure whether I like it or not, glad 
to return to my fireside. (I can see the face 
you are making as you read this). I did en- 
joy Lily’s party which was very grand, and 
yet nice and easy, as things at Mrs. Boone’s 
always are. Bessie has imroved, and she 
dances so well, she has a good time when she 
goes out. Mother insists that I must accept 
all my invitations for the holidays. Aline’s 
party is on the twenty-fourth, and Dick and 
Charlie will be here. If you were only to be 
here too, we should be a united circle. 

Ill 


112 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


I must tell you I have a new friend whose 
name is Joanna Story and who makes me think 
of you a little. She is a widow, and is spend- 
ing the winter here in the Brocade Lady’s 
cottage. Aline calls her the Strange Story, 
because we know so little about her. I don’t 
think there is any mystery, only that she has 
not had a happy hfe and does not care to talk 
about it. 

Bessie and I are in the candy business. I 
wish you could see our cornucopias and 
baskets, for special Christmas orders. In fact 
I wish for you every time I turn around.” 

‘‘ I hope nobody will order any more candy 
for a month at least,” Bessie exclaimed, snip- 
ping a piece of silver cord in two. The table 
before her was piled with yellow boxes of dif- 
ferent sizes. 

Coloned Brand who took a deep interest 
in the venture, had contributed these boxes, 
which added greatly to the attractive appear- 
ance of their candy. 

“ But aren’t we proud of our success? ” de- 


AT THE SEAT OF WAR 


113 


manded Susan. “ I am beginning to feel like 
a millionaire.” 

The girls were at work in the dining-room, 
Susan at a cutting table in the bay window 
was busy with some of the very special orders 
she had mentioned in her letter, put up in 
dainty baskets and odd cornucopias. Aline 
had designed these last, and their yellow silk 
tops drew up in an artful manner very sug- 

“ They are beauties, and she wouldn’t let me 
pay her a cent for her work,” Susan added. 

“I do think we have done splendidly, 
Susan. We’ll shall have quite a nice little sum 
to divide after our bills are paid, I think, but 
the fact remains I am tired of landy. Speak- 
ing of Aline, matters seem to grow worse and 
worse out there. I believe she does not try to 
get along with her aunt.” 

“ It is hard to tell just how much is her 
fault,” Susan answered. “ Miss Arthur is 
dreadfully dictatorial and unreasonable. I 
should not like to have to live with her. Phil 
calls Miss Arthur’s place the seat of war. 
Here comes Aline now, — and Lily.” 


114 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


After the greetings were over and the 
baskets and boxes had been duly admired, 
Bessie exclaimed, “ What lovely furs, Aline! ” 

“ Aren’t they? ” echoed Lily. “ I wish now 
I had bought chinchilla. They are her Christ- 
mas gift.” 

Aline dropped her muff carelessly on the 
sofa, and unfastened her collar. “ I am glad 
you like them. They are pretty,” she replied 
indifferently. 

“ I suppose you know the boys got home 
last night,” said Lily. “ And what do you 
think! Charlie has a moustache. Aline and I 
met Dick and his friend, Mr. Warren, in the 
book shop just now. He is very good look- 
ing, don’t you think so, Aline.” 

“Who? Dick or Mr. Warren?” 

“ I don’t think Dick is exactly good look- 
ing,” said Lily. 

“ He is aristocratic looking which is better,’* 
put in Bessie. 

“ You are going to Dick’s dinner, of course, 
Susan? ” Aline asked. 

“ She came very near sending her regrets,” 





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AT THE SEAT OF WAR 


115 


Bessie answered for her. ‘‘ It would have been 
a shame, for it is just our old set.” 

“ Marian won’t be there, that is one good 
thing,” observed Lily. “ She is going up to 
Cincinnati to a wedding. Will you be at the 
Wards’ dance to-night, Susan?” 

There were times when Susan could not 
help feeling left out. She had not been asked 
to the Wards’, and she sat silent while the 
others talked about it. Bessie was going with 
Grayson, and Dick it seemed had written to 
ask Lily, as soon as he received his invitation. 
The Seymours and Boones were distantly con- 
nected, and Dick probably felt under some ob- 
ligation. 

Susan was surprised to find herself explain- 
it thus to herself. What difference did it 
make? Why shouldn’t Dick ask Lily? As 
Bessie said, she had come very near declining 
the invitation to the Seymours’. The engraved 
card had seemed alarmingly formal; but her 
mother had insisted she must go, and now she 
was glad. 

“ I suppose I can count on all of you to- 


116 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


morrow night/’ Aline said, as they were leav- 
ing. No doubt you think it rather a nuisance, 
having to go so far.” 

‘‘ That is part of the fun,” said Susan. “ I 
am going with Miss Margaret. Colonel Brand 
can’t go, and she asked Phil and me.” 

“Phil and me! How domestic,” laughed 
Bessie. “ You and Phil are very thick.” 

Lily opened her eyes; “ Are you, Susan. I 
didn’t know that.” 

“ Neither does Bessie. She is trying to 
tease,” Susan replied, laughing. 

Miss Arthur’s reception was an elegant af- 
fair, but stiff. The beautiful house was thrown 
open from top to bottom and lavishly decor- 
ated. Their hostess looked regal, but at the 
same time ill. Aline, Phil whispered to Susan, 
was clothed in defiance, lightly veiled. 

While Susan was trying to talk to a man 
who might have been from the moon for all 
she knew about him, she heard someone say, 
“ There is Dick Seymour,” and glancing over 
her shoulder she saw him coming towards her. 
He looked older, years older than he was, with 


AT THE SEAT OF WAR 117 

those stern eyes of his, and Bessie was right, 
he had an aristocratic air, Susan thought, as 
she held out her hand. 

Dick’s face was alight with pleasure. “ To 
think I have been at home two days without 
seeing you! ” he said. “ I called up, but you 
were out, and festivities have multiplied till we 
haven’t a minute. You haven’t changed much 
in two years. I need not ask how you 
are? ” 

Beneath that dignified exterior, Dick was 
the same nice, friendly boy, and it was only a 
matter of a few minutes till they were back 
where they had left off. He presented his 
friend, Mr. William Ellery Warren, who re- 
joiced in the title of Wee-Wee, though he was 
an inch taller than Dick, himself, and then just 
as Susan’s very desire to be nice to Dick’s 
friend was making her most terribly shy, 
Charlie Willard saved the day. 

“ Adorable Susan! ” he cried, rushing up to 
her, “ I have lived but for this hour! ” 

“ I had heard about it, Charlie, but I didn’t 
dream how becoming it was,” laughed Susan, 


118 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


looking at him significantly, as she shook 
hands. 

“ Thanks awfully,” Charlie said, caressing 
his new adornment. “ Did you know we are 
to dance presently? I was beginning to think 
it was a funeral.” 

“ That is very rude of you, Charlie,” ex- 
claimed Lily, who with Phil just then joined 
the group. 

“ Thank you, Lily Ann ; run along and tell 
grandma, do. This has a most homelike sound. 
Aline said as much herself. It isn’t her fault.” 

A good deal of stiffness is needed to crush 
the spirits of a lot of buoyant young people, 
eventually the ice was broken, the stiffness 
dispelled and a merry evening followed, end- 
ing with a grand Christmas tree at midnight. 
Susan enjoyed it as much as anybody, for Phil 
was an attentive escort, and Dick returned to 
his old way of looking out for her. 

This was the first of a round of festivities. 
Bessie gave a dance, which like eveiything at- 
tempted at the Manns’ was achieved through 
much tribulation, yet turned out a success 


AT THE SEAT OF WAR 


119 


Nettie, Aline and Susan helped to decorate 
the house. Bessie put up the fresh curtains 
herself, while Mrs. Mann and Ellie made 
chicken salad and croquettes, and Florrie and 
Jimmy kept persistently in everybody’s way. 
The happy-go-lucky atmosphere was, how- 
ever, conducive to a good time, and although 
the anxious hostess vowed before hand, she 
would never try to have anything again, she 
changed her mind before it was over. 

Dick’s dinner was, as a matter of course, a 
stately affair. Mr. Seymour, coming in to 
speak to his son’s guests, singled out Susan 
for special attention, taking her to the library 
to see a piece of bronze he had lately purchased. 
Above the mantel hung a portrait of Elsie. 
Susan paused before it, and the soft wistful 
eyes seemed to smile on her. Elsie was a little 
girl. How much had happened in the six 
years since her death, and yet the fragrance 
of her gentle presence, had never quite faded. 

“ We consider it a remarkable likeness,” 
Mr. Seymour said. 


120 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ I always think of ‘ Fair as a Star,’ when 
I see it,” she answered softly. 

“ I believe I enjoy society. Mother,” Susan 
said as she was being unfastened that night. 
She had worn her tulle dress with the rosebud 
trimming and Dick had admired it. “We 
are to have a farewell supper at the Boones’. 
Then the holidays will be over.” 


CHAPTER XI 


SPADES AND KOSES 

“ Well^ it is nice and like old times to have 
you children together once more,” Mrs. Boone 
exclaimed on New Years’ evening as she en- 
tered her drawing-room where the old circle 
were assembled. Dick’s friend had obligingly 
left the day before, and at this closing supper 
there were no outsiders. 

“ Knowing that Cousin Enos Bell might 
take a turn for the worse any day, has kept 
me on a terrible strain this winter,” she con- 
tinued, taking the chair her grandson pushed 
forward. ‘‘ Such a large family connection as 
ours is inconvenient, really. I wanted Lily 
to have a good time, but I believe in showing 
respect to the dead also. I am told mourning 
is going out of fashion, but I tell my children 
and grandchildren that I wish to be mourned 
for, when I go.” 


121 


122 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ But we’ll miss you just as much if we don’t 
wear crape, Grandmother,” urged Charlie. 

‘‘ No, you won’t, Charlie. I don’t pretend 
to be an authority on psychology, but I read in 
one of your books that if you wish to feel cheer- 
ful you must begin by looking and acting so, 
and I am sure it works the other way too; so 
I want you to look sorry and wear crape on 
your arm.” 

Charlie laughed; “You are the greatest old 
Gran!” patting her affectionately. 

“ Oh, yes, grandmothers are a convenience 
at times, no doubt, but you needn’t crush me. 
Go get that group picture that is on the library 
table. I want Susan to see it.” 

“ She flouts my embraces 
My kisses doth scorn. 

Till I wish in my soul 
I had never been bom.” 

sang Charlie gayly, as he departed on her 
errand. 

“ He has done splendidly this year,” Mrs. 


SPADES AND ROSES 


123 


Boone said proudly. “ I really didn’t know 
it was in him.” 

“ My learned grandmother is about to write 
a monograph on the Psychology of Grief,” 
Charlie announced returning with the picture ; 
all the Boone grandchildren taken together. 

Mrs. Boone exhibited it with fond satisfac- 
tion. “ Rather a nice lot if they are mine,” 
she said. “ But they don’t show me the least 
respect. — Not one of them. I shouldn’t have 
dared to make fun of my grandmother.” 

“ Holiday is the only absent member, and 
Susan has a letter from her which she will read 
later on,” Lily explained as they went in to 
supper. 

The absent member’s chair was there, if she 
was not, all decorated in cedar and holly, with 
two gay little American flags. They were my 
idea,” Charlie explained. Gran thought the 
vacant chair a bit pensive in its suggestion.” 

‘‘ They are most appropriate I’m sure,” said 
Tom Mann. “ Flags are always flying where 
Holliday is.” 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


IM 

“ And her flag is still ours we hope,” added 
Phil. 

“We will first give our attention to supper 
and at the end Holliday’s letter and reminis- 
cences will be in order,” announced Charlie. 

Outside the dining room door Mrs. Boone 
was whispering to Mrs. Brand. “ I want^you 
to have a peep at them. Did you ever see a 
happier, brighter, nicer set than they are? ” 

Margaret agreed she never had. “ How 
sweet Susan looks in that pale blue with the 
red roses in her belt,” she added. 

The roses in question had been sent by Phil. 
“For my guardian angel,” the card accom- 
panying them read. 

“ What a goose Phil is,” Susan had ex- 
claimed ; but the roses were beautiful and their 
crimson added just the touch the soft blue of 
her dress needed. 

Holliday’s letter, when the time for it came, 
proved brief. 


'*Dear Old Friends; I have 
asked Susan to read this note at the gathering 


SPADES AND ROSES 


125 


I am sure you will have during the hollidays. 
I wish I could be there too. You don’t know 
how often I think of you and the good old 
times. Dick will tell you I have not changed, 
and am still a true American. Don’t forget 
our engagement to meet next October, and 
unearth our spades. I am coming home then. 
Meanwhile believe me. Faithfully and affec- 
tionately your friend, 

Evelyn Holliday Heywood. 

“ Is Holliday as pretty as ever? ” Aline 
asked Dick. 

‘‘ She is rather a stunner, I should say,” he 
answered. “ She is a sparkling sort of person 
you know. — Flags flying, as Tom says. She 
has had a lot of experience too, over there, — 
the kind that makes one self-possessed. — Meet- 
ing all sorts of people, from crowned heads 
down.” 

‘‘ I can imagine her,” Nettie remarked. 
“ Holliday used to have a grand manner at 
times.” 

‘‘ Yes, but she can put it aside entirely. I 


126 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


really think she came near hugging me. Not 
for myself at all, but for all of us and the old 
times,’’ said Dick. 

“ Dear old Dick, how modest he is! ” Char- 
lie cried, clapping his hands amid the general 
laughter. 

“ We love you, Dickie,” murmured Phil. 

“ Get out, Charlie. You are most cutting 
to treat the idea of my being hugged for my- 
self as such an impossibility,” Dick exclaimed, 
laughing and flushing. 

“ It wasn’t that. Sir Richard, quite the con- 
trary,” said Charlie, and Aline added, “ It 
was your own grand manner.” 

“ It is funny how much in earnest Holliday 
is about the buried spades, isn’t it? ” Grayson 
said. “ It seems rather silly now.” 

“ Perhaps it was a childish performance, but 
the promise we made to stand by each other 
and remember the Wise Man was a good one, 
if only we can keep it,” urged Aline. 

“ You are right,” said Tom. “ It is no 
childish thing to keep that promise. “ The 


SPADES AND ROSES 


12T 


idea was to win back our spades by proving 
ourselves true workers, wasn’t it?” 

‘‘ I must confess I do not recall anything so 
profoundly serious,” objected Phil. 

“ I’m not doing any work,” Lily said plain- 
tively, ‘‘ but after the holidays are over I am 
going to take a class in the sewing school.” 

“ Never you mind. I’ll keep you company,” 
Phil whispered. 

“It isn’t always work that shows, which 
counts most,” Dick suggested. “ Perhaps the 
hardest digging is done out of sight.” 

“ You are too metaphorical for me. Come 
down to earth,” begged Charlie. “ It means to 
me, doing your best and being square and de- 
cent.” 

“ After all I suppose it is what we are, not 
what we do. We are all young yet, and it is 
not likely we shall any of us accomplish any 
great work before next October, but we can 
he friends, and be industrious, and he decent, 
as Charlie expresses it,” said Tom. 

Dick went home with Susan. The fire in 
the parlor was almost out, but in the dining- 


128 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


room there were some glowing coals in the 
grate, and Muff asleep on the hearth rug. 
“ This has always seemed to me one of the 
pleasantest rooms I know of,” Dick said, as 
he placed a chair for Susan and drew up one 
for himself. 

“Has it?” she exclaimed. “It is because 
we live here so much, I suppose. But I had 
not thought about its being specially pleas- 
ant.” 

Muff had wakened and jumped into her lap. 
She stroked him gently. Her pretty hair was 
in a soft disorder from the scarf she had thrown 
aside; her blue eyes were full of contentment. 

There was a burn on one of the fingers of 
the hand that stroked Muff. Dick noticed it. 
Susan assured him it was nothing at all. She 
was always getting burned; but Dick was 
solicitious. 

“ You are wonderful, Susan, to take hold 
as you have! Father thinks so, too. — And 
you are such a little person I ” 

Susan knew she wasn’t wonderful, but it was 
pleasant to have Dick think so. They sat in 







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SPADES AND ROSES 


129 


silence for a moment or two, then he asked 
abruptly if she did not like Kim and they 
talked about Kipling till the hall clock struck 
half-past eleven. 

The college boys were to leave early in the 
morning. Dick rose and held out his hand. 
“ The next time I see you I shall have some- 
thing to tell you. Something about my future 
plans which I am in honor bound not to men- 
tion now. — That is of course if you care to 
hear it,’' he said, looking down on her very 
gravely. 

‘‘ If it is something good I shall like to hear 
it,” Susan answered demurely. Of course 
Dick did not realize how he was hurting the 
burned finger. 

Withdrawing her hand, her elbow touched a 
book that lay near the edge of the table, knock- 
ing it off. Dick stooped to pick it up and as 
he did so, a card fell out from its leaves. In- 
voluntarily he glanced at it as he returned it to 
the book, and the book to the table. 

“ Mrs. Boone is coming on to Commence- 
ment with Lily and Marian, why can’t you 


130 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


come too?” he asked. Was there really a 
change in his manner, or did Susan imagine 
it when she thought of it afterwards? 

When he had gone she returned to the fire, 
and it was while she sat there lost in pleasant 
dreams that it suddenly occurred to her what 
the card was he had picked up. She reached 
for the book. Yes, she recalled slipping it be- 
tween the leaves, the card that had come with 
the roses, with “ For my guardian Angel,” in 
Phil’s very marked handwriting. 


CHAPTER XII. 


ALINE. 

After the excitement of the holidays, ex- 
istence became utterly humdrum. Susan was 
conscious of a hovering discontent which at 
the slightest excuse swooped down upon her. 
That card of Phil’s had something to do with 
it. Had Dick read it? What difference did 
it make if he had? She was silly to care, and 
yet the fact remained she did not want Dick 
to think, — well, — anything. The letter she had 
from him was just such a letter as he always 
wrote, still she could not persuade herself that 
it was not somehow different. 

Then Joanna professed to be hurt with her. 
She had been quite forgotten, she said, and 
when Susan attempted an excuse, or an ex- 
planation, she added, “ It is all right, my child, 
and natural. You are young and happy. I 
must not be selfish.” 


131 


132 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


This was at the Brands’ one evening after 
New Years’, where Mrs. Story and her brother 
Mallory Burton were the principal guests. 
Colonel Brand among many other things, was 
interested in certain mining operations in the 
state, and had met Mr. Burton in a business 
way. He was a forceful man, evidently a good 
deal older than Joanna and most unlike her in 
appearance. 

Mrs. Story was beautiful that night, and 
talked brilliantly. Susan was proud of her. 
“ It is odd that I have such shining friends,” 
she told herself. It was clear that her hosts 
were also impressed by Joanna’s charm. 

She spoke with apparent frankness of the 
way in which she had chanced to take the 
Brocade Lady’s cottage. It was a sudden im- 
pulse, she said. In an anniversary number of 
the Evening Record sent to her brother it was 
described in a sketch of the town’s growth as 
one of the oldest residences, the recent death 
of its owner was mentioned, and the fact that 
the place was then for rent. The idea of 
spending a winter there herself had attracted 


ALINE. 


133 


her as a sort of an adventure, which, however, 
it turned out, would at least enable her to see 
something of her brother. ‘‘ And so armed 
with a letter of introduction to Mr. Bright,” 
Joanna smiled at the Rector, who with his wife 
was present, “ that I might not be regarded as 
an impostor, I came.” 

“ And conquered,” the colonel and Mr. 
Bright both added in the same breath, gal- 
lantly. 

Joanna’s reproach came as they were putting 
on their wraps to go home. Susan felt con- 
victed of selfishness. 

There were pleasant things, however, to off- 
set the uncomfortable ones. Father was really 
better and more cheerful, and the new year 
brought a cordial, affectionate letter from Joe^ 
enclosing a check large enough to cover taxes, 
the bogie that dogged Mother Kitty’s path, 
and something over. He had had a piece of 
good luck and wished to share it, he wrote. 

With present anxieties disposed of, and less 
demand for candy, Susan had time for the 
story, but it partook of the general flatness. 


134 * 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Sitting at her desk one afternoon, rather dis- 
contentedly reading over what she had writ- 
ten the day before, she heard Aline Arthur’s 
voice at the foot of the stairs asking if she 
might come up. Putting her papers out of 
sight she went to meet her. 

“ You certainly have the gift of imparting 
an air of peace to your surroundings,” Aline 
said sitting down and loosening her wraps. 
Susan wondered why she wasn’t wearing her 
furs, for the day was frosty. 

Aline looked at the fire a moment without 
speaking, then turning a flushed face to her 
friend she announced, “ Well, the break has 
come.” 

“ Why, Aline! You don’t mean ” 

Aline nodded. “ Miss Tryon has taken me 
in. I haven’t quite decided what I’ll do. I 
have a little money. Aunt Allie washes her 
hands of me. I didn’t run away. She knew 
I was going. I took only my plainest things. 
I am a worker, now, and oh, Susan ! you can’t 
guess what it is to live in peace, for you know 
nothing else. I have a scrap of a room under 


ALINE. 


W5 

the roof and I am going to be happy in it. 
I'm sorry about Aunt Allie, but it had to 
come. It was friction all the time. I did try, 
though I know people think I did not. Her 
attitude was, ‘‘ I have given you all these beau- 
tiful things, therefore you must do as I say." 
What I wanted was a little freedom. I hadn’t 
any room for my soul." 

“ I am sure you did try, Aline," Susan said, 
“ but I am sorry." 

‘‘ Aunt Allie has given me to understand 
that the break is final, that means of course 
that I am cut out of her will. I don’t want 
her money." 

“ I think you are very brave," Susan said, 
reflecting that it was a good deal of a come- 
down from heiress of the rich Miss Arthur, to 
a humble worker at the Settlement. ‘‘ But 
tell me about it. How did it come about at the 
last? ’’ she asked. 

Aline went on to explain that Miss Tryon 
had promised her an invitation to dinner on the 
occasion of the visit to the Settlement of a dis- 
tinguished social worker, whom she was for 


136 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


some reason most anxious to meet. Miss 
Arthur hearing of it made arrangements for 
a large dinner party of her own the same eve- 
ning. “ Any other night would have suited her 
as well/’ Aline declared, “ but she was deter- 
mined to have her own way and show her 
power by keeping me away from the Settle- 
ment.” 

Naturally all Aline’s stubbornness had 
risen to oppose her aunt’s. She refused to 
break her engagement at the Settlement. She 
would not give up the pleasure and profit of 
meeting such a person as Dr. Forsyth, for the 
sake of a lot of people she had seen over and 
over that winter. “You know it was unrea- 
sonable and unkind to expect me to, Susan,” 
she urged. 

Susan could not deny it. “ How did you 
manage? did you come in alone? — to the Set- 
tlement party, I mean.” 

“ In the first place I told her I would not be 
at home, and she dared me, — it amounted to 
that— to stay away. It is queer when she is 
so determined herself she doesn’t realize that 


ALINE. 


137 


other people can be firm too. I asked Mrs. 
Boone to let me stay all night. From there I 
could go all the way on the car. There was 
no trouble. Dr. Dinsmore who lives at the 
Settlement, you know, brought me back. I 
left word at home that I would spend the night 
with Lily. There was a scene next day, of 
course, and it ended as you see. Rebecca took 
me in, but she went to see Aunt Allie. She 
hadn’t much to say about the interview, but I 
am free, and you can’t imagine how funny and 
interesting life is down there.” 

This was Aline’s side, but Susan found that 
some of Miss Arthur’s friends, among them 
Mrs. Brand, thought Aline a good deal to 
blame. 

It was the next afternoon that Margaret 
asked Susan to drive with her out to Crest- 
wood. “ I shall have to take Ken with us,” 
she explained, “ for Alice has been called home, 
and mammy finds Sidney all she can manage.” 

Ken was a most satisfactory child to take 
anywhere. In the first place he was an angel 
to look at, with his golden curls and dark eyes. 


138 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


and he was perfectly content to gaze out of the 
carriage window, with his gray flannel donkey 
clasped in one arm. His mother and Susan 
were free to talk as they pleased. 

Crestwood was a suburb near the picnic 
grounds of old, and only a short distance from 
Miss Arthur’s. Would Susan mind stopping 
there? Mrs. Brand asked after her errand 
was done. 

Susan did not quite want to meet Aline’s 
Aunt, but she assented. “ Are we going to see 
Aline? ” cried Ken, pricking up his ears. 

“ No, darling. Aline is not there to-day. 
We’ll go to see her another day,” his mother 
answered, adding, “ Have you ever noticed 
how children love Aline? ” 

Miss Arthur’s house was large for two 
persons, to-day it seemed very lonely in its 
grandeur. The long drawing-room with the 
conservatory at one end, cried aloud for youth 
and gayety to enjoy it. 

Ken insisted upon going in, evidently cling- 
ing to a belief that there was a chance of find- 
ing Aline, notwithstanding his mother’s re- 


ALINE. 


139 


peated assurance to the contrary, and in the 
midst of their conversation with the mistress 
of the house, he burst out with his question, 
“ Where is Aline? ” 

“ She doesn’t live here any more,” was Miss 
Arthur’s cold reply. 

“Why doesn’t she?” Ken insisted, refus- 
ing to be silenced. 

“ Never mind, Margaret. His inquiries are 
perfectly natural, and there is no secret about 
it. Aline has left me, as you know.” 

This led to some sympathetic questions 
from Mrs. Brand. 

“ I have nothing to say, Margaret. Aline 
has made her choice. She deliberately dis- 
obeyed me. I disapproved of her going to the 
Settlement that night; I gave her the oppor- 
tunity to decline the invitation with a perfectly 
dignified and reasonable excuse. Her aunt 
was entertaining. But really there is no good 
in going over it. Aline has never appreciated 
anything I have done for her.” 

“ Oh, I think she has. Miss Arthur,” Susan 


140 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


said timidly, ‘‘ but it seemed too one-sided to 
her. There wasn’t anything she could do for 
you.” 

“ She could have obeyed me. I asked noth- 
ing more,” Miss Arthur replied sternly. 

“ She just sees her own side of it,” Susan 
thought. 

‘‘ She is ill, I am sure,” Mrs. Brand said as 
they drove home. “ Did you notice how she 
looked? I really don’t see, Susan, how Aline 
could go. Of course she won’t own that she is 
not well.” 

“ Don’t you see. Miss Margaret, how much 
alike they really are? Aline has always said 
that her aunt did not need her, that she was 
of no use, and Miss Arthur can only see her 
own side.” 

“Does Aline see any side but her own?” 
asked Margaret. 

The Kindergarten training class was the 
best thing that offered, Aljine decided. Tt 
would be within her means if she lived with 


ALINE. 


141 


economy, and her love for children drew her to 
it. She went into the work with great en- 
thusiasm, and her former friends saw little of 
her for the rest of the winter. 


CHAPTER XIII 


A TEA BOOM 

On their way down town one cold after- 
noon, Susan and Bessie were hailed by Annie 
Crane who stood in her front door. “ Come 
in a moment, won’t you, girls? I want to con- 
sult you.” 

The Crane family was involved in a long 
will case and the old home in which they lived, 
now far down town could not be sold till the 
various suits were decided. As Annie ex- 
pressed it, Grandfather tied things up in such 
hard knots it will take years to untangle them. 
And you know how cross knots make you. 
The family can’t agree about cutting them, or 
the courts can’t.” 

'Annie wore that look of feverish alertness 
so habitual to her, as she led the girls into a 
reception room, still handsome in spite of 
dingy frescoing and tarnished mirror frames. 

142 


A TEA ROOM 


143 


She pushed forward some chairs in the di- 
rection of the gas fire that burned be- 
neath the elaborate marble mantel, seating her- 
self on the edge of a sofa. “You see they are 
doubling up at the Record office, and I’m 
dropped,” she said, so we’ve gone back to the 
tea room idea. Do you think we could make 
anything? We must live, and that is the only 
thing I can think of now.” 

“ It is a good place for it,” Bessie owned 
encouragingly. 

“ And if we could make it fashionable, you 
know, to drop in after the matinee,” Annie 
continued anxiously. “We have a good many 
relations and friends who will advertize us, 
because it will be to their interest. People 
don’t like to help their relations with money, 
no matter how rich they are. But come and 
look at the room we have for it. I’ll call 
Carolyn.” 

They crossed the spacious and finely pro- 
portioned hall, and entered a drawing-room 
with two windows at each end and a bay on 
one side, where were to be seen the enormous 


144 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


mirrors and elaborate cornices which were the 
fashion when the house was built many years 
before. “ You see there is room enough,” 
Annie said, returning. ‘‘ You know my sis- 
ter, don’t you. Miss Maxwell? ” 

Carolyn Crane was as plump as Annie was 
thin, and her face had a vaguely sweet expres- 
sion. “ I tell Annie I don’t know what Grand- 
father would think if he knew we were going 
into business, but she says it’s all his fault. 
Do you understand about wills? ” 

“ I think,” Annie interrupted, “ that we 
ought to have a name. Something catchy to 
advertize it.” 

“ If we could only repaper,” sighed Caro- 
lyn. “We might have cranes, don’t you 
know? in panels, standing on one leg, with cat- 
tails, and call it the Crane Tea Room.” 

Susan was seized with a wild desire to laugh, 
but Bessie remarked gravely that it would be 
expensive. 

“ One-legged cranes would be unpleasantly 
suggestive,” said Annie, grimly, “ and we 
shouldn’t have any leg to stand on.” 


A TEA ROOM 


145 


‘‘ Oh, of course we couldn’t do it,” Carolyn 
agreed sweetly, ‘‘ but I do think it would be 
picturesque and sesthetic. Don’t you? ” she 
appealed to Susan. 

“ I am afraid it would be hard to find the 
paper,” she answered non-committally. 

Bessie appeared lost in thought while Annie 
unfolded their plans further. ‘‘ Annie,” she 
exclaimed at length, “ I have an idea — one that 
may help you, but I’ll have to talk it over with 
someone first. I’ll let you know about it to- 
morrow. This is a beautiful room and the 
location couldn’t be better.” 

There was real enthusiasm in her tone, and 
Annie looked pleased and said, “ Thank you. 
I hoped you and Susan could give us some sug- 
gestions.” 

‘‘ And you think Cranes wouldn’t do? ” 
Carolyn asked regretfully. 

“ It is highly probable some of the other 
Cranes might object,” Annie reminded her. 

‘‘ Is your idea a secret? ” Susan inquired of 
Bessie when they were once more in the street. 
“ Who is it you want to consult? ” 


146 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ Why, you of course. What do you think 
of Daffodil Candy and Tea Room? ” 

‘‘ Oxu* name! ” cried Susan. 

‘‘But our candy, too, don’t you see? We 
let them have our name, already known, they 
give us space for a candy table. It will be a 
mutual advantage. The hours would be in the 
afternoon. We could take turns or get Susie 
Flynn to help. She’d love it. Aline will make 
us a few posters. It need not interfere with 
our regular orders.” 

“ We can suggest a crane among the daf- 
fodils,” laughed Susan. 

It was an idea truly, and though there were 
obstacles to be overcome they were not insur- 
mountable as it turned out. Mrs. Maxwell 
did not want Susan so much before the public. 
If it meant she was to sell candy every after- 
noon, or any afternoon in a tea room, she could 
not consent. 

“ It wouldn’t really be any more public than 
the bazaar, mother,” Susan urged. 

The bazaar was only once a year and for 
charity, Mrs. Maxwell pointed out. The last 


A TEA ROOM 


147 


fact seemed to make the greatest difference. 

Mrs. Brand who was appealed to thought 
the girls had enough to do already. She was 
sure, however, that Bessie’s plan was a good 
one, and that they would make enough if it 
was carried through, to warrant a clerk. 

“ Oh, Bessie,” cried Susan, “ think of our 
employing a clerk! ” 

“ It sounds too grand for words,” agreed 
Bessie, “ but we mustn’t count our chickens 
too soon. We’ll go now and talk it over with 
Annie.” 

“ Susie Flynn would be just the person for 
the place,” added Miss Margaret, ‘‘ and the 
place just the one for her, — easy work, short 
hours.” 

Susan admired Bessie’s businesslike ways. 
Annie Crane was interested at once, but 
Carolyn, reluctant to surrender her cranes 
seemed to think the plan a little one sided. 
“ Well,” Bessie replied, “ You don’t have to do 
it. Susan and I think our name is worth a 
good deal, we can sell our candy without com- 
ing here, so we don’t care to go to any further 


148 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


expense. If you don’t think our name enough 
to pay you for the space we want, it is all 
right.” 

“ It is a pretty name, and I don’t see how 
we could lose anything,” Annie said. “ For 
my part I’ll gladly accept the offer.” And in 
the discussion of ways and means that fol- 
lowed, Carolyn, too, began to be enthusiastic 
over the name. 

The Cranes had many friends and when the 
tea room plan became known, suggestions and 
offers of help flowed in. The opening which 
occurred one Saturday afternoon was made a 
social event. The T. S. Club had put aside 
whatever vital questions they had up for dis- 
cussion, and made paper flowers, and went in 
a body to help decorate, and the great room 
was turned into a bower of beauty. 

Persons especially interested, invited their 
friends to drink tea with them, and altogether 
it was a gala occasion. “ I feel as if we were 
giving a reception,” Annie whispered to Susan, 
who had asked Mrs. Story, Miss Tryon and 


A TEA ROOM 


149 


Nettie, to take tea with her, and was looking 
in vain for a table. 

Susie Flynn in cap and apron and yellow 
ribbons, hovered about her wares like an ex- 
cited butterfly, looking so pretty, people were 
asking on all sides who she was. 

“ Oh, Miss Susan,” she whispered, “ I have 
sold such a lot! ” 

Bessie, who had a party too, Lily, Aline, 
and Mrs. Brand, signalled her delight to 
Susan across the room. “ Of course it can’t 
be like this every afternoon,” she said later on, 
“ but I am sure this is very encouraging.” 
Everybody agreed it was, and that it would 
be delightful to have a place like this where one 
could drop in with a friend. 

Susan and Joanna walked home together. 
Mrs. Story was no longer reproachful. She 
asked Susan, if she ever had a spare minute, 
to come and read with her. This led to some 
blissful afternoons, where the reading was in- 
terrupted by frequent discussions and was 
sometimes all talk. 

On one occasion Joanna told her fortune. 


150 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Her slender fingers swept lightly over Susan’s 
palm, she gazed dreamily into her eyes for a 
moment, then at her hand again, and with 
numerous light touches began to point out cer- 
tain characteristics, talents and so on, so 
shrewdly, her subject began to feel embar- 
rassed. Joanna’s gaze travelled to the opposite 
wall where the Brocade Lady’s father gravely 
viewed over his high stock, this heathenish per- 
formance. “ Something,” she continued, “ is 
troubling you. You haven’t mentioned it to 
anyone. Perhaps,” she spoke very slowly, 
“ it is nothing very tangible. A misunder- 
standing between you and a person you are 
fond of, and for some reason you can’t ex- 
plain.” 

Susan withdrew her hand quickly. Was 
Joanna a wizard? Had fate so promptly 
traced her heart secrets on her palm? “ Oh, 
Joanna! ” was all she said. 

Mrs. Story impulsively drew her close, and 
pressed her cheek against Susan’s. “ Child! ” 
she whispered, “ I’m just guessing. You 
know one doesn’t have to live so very long to 


A TEA ROOM 


151 


be able to guess a little. We all go through 
the same experiences, more or less. I don’t 
know anything, my dear. I saw you were 
worried. — It is generally a misunderstanding.” 
There was laughter in her voice. 

Susan recovered herself. ‘‘ I have been a 
little worried,” she owned, with a very high 
color. “It is nothing, really. I know I am 
a goose to let it trouble me. You remind me 
of the time long ago when Miss Julia Ander- 
son told fortunes at the bazaar. We didn’t 
know who she was, and it seemed very mar- 
vellous. I had had a quarrel with Holliday and 
she told me it would be all right. Miss Mar- 
garet must have given her a hint ; but I didn’t 
guess it then. I remember how happy I was.” 

“You did not allow me time to tell you it 
would come out right,” Joanna said, laughing. 
“ But it will, dear, I am sure.” 

And somehow, for no reason in the world, 
the assurance carried conviction with it for the 
time. 


CHAPTER XIV 


WAS IT A GHOST? 

“Hi! Florrie! aren’t you sorry!” Jimmy 
Mann making a swift descent by way of the 
bannisters, landed in the lower hall with a 
whoop and grinned at his little sister who was 
coming down in the regular manner. 

Florrie turned up her small nose in a way 
expressive of scorn unutterable. “ I wouldn’t 
be as mean as you are, Jimmy Mann, — not for 
a million dollars.” 

“ Ha! ha! ” cried that gentleman derisively. 

“ I wouldn’t give a pin for your old secret 
either,” Florrie added, with a suspicious quiver 
on the last word. 

Bang! went the front door behind Jimmy, 
and bang! went the gate a moment later. 
Florrie sat on the bottom step and dissolved in 
tears. 

Susan, waiting in the hall for Bessie, was 
162 


WAS IT A GHOST? 


153 


witness of this scene. ‘‘ What is the matter, 
Florrie, dear?” she asked, sitting beside her 
and putting an arm about her. 

“ Jimmy and Robin are mean,” sobbed the 
child. “ They are the meanest boys ever were. 
I wish some bears would come out of the woods 
and eat them up.” 

“ If bears were around eating up bad chil- 
dren they wouldn’t stop with Robin and 
Jimmy,” Patsy remarked severely from the 
parlor door. “ Who tore my prettiest valen- 
tine? ” 

I never, Patsy Mann. I — I ” 

‘‘ She didn’t mean to, I am sure, Patsy,” 
Susan said soothingly. 

Patsy was practicing some new dancing 
steps before the long mirror. “ Florrie is a 
goose. Why does she want to run after those 
rough boys?” She asked the question from 
the superior heights of one pursued, rather 
than pursuing, and returned to her dancing. 

Florrie confided her grievance to Susan with 
many sobs interspersed. The boys had built 
a hut in Robin’s back yard, a masculine 


154 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


achievement of which they were blissfully 
proud. It was built in the fence corner in such 
a way that only two walls were required, and 
it had a window and a door, and the greatest 
feature of all was a small rusty stove acquired 
at a second-hand place, together with sufficient 
pipe to rise a foot or so above the roof. To 
Florrie, as to the boys, it was a wonderful 
structure, but she had only once been allowed 
to enter its sacred precincts. 

Jimmy said if they let Florrie in she would 
want to do all sorts of fool things. Hut-life 
was not for girls. “ It was because I said they 
ought to black the stove,” she sobbed. “ And 
they’ve got things to eat ; ” she went on, “ po- 
tatoes and cookies and apples, and Robin said 
they were going to make candy. — And they’ve 
got a secret.” 

Susan listened sympathetically. She re- 
membered how unhappy she had often been 
when she was a child, over matters that 
seemed only funny now. “ Haven’t you any 
little girls to play with? ” she asked. 

“ I don’t like to play with little girls,” 


WAS IT A GHOST? 


155 


Florrie wailed, but the wail turned to a shout 
of triumph the next moment, as she pounced 
like a kitten upon a small object that lay on the 
floor near the newel post. ‘‘ It’s the key ! It’s 
the key! ” she cried. ‘‘ It fell out of Jimmy’s 
pocket.” 

‘‘ The key to what? ” Susan asked. 

‘‘ To the hut,” Florrie explained. The door, 
it seemed, was secured by a padlock, to which 
Robin and Jimmy each had a key. ‘‘ Now I 
can find out their old secret. He said it was 
in the hut.” She danced up and down in 
ecstasy. ‘‘ Jimmy’s gone away up town for 
mother and Robin has a sore throat. Goody! 
Goody!” 

Bessie came down the stairs putting on her 
gloves. ‘‘ Florrie, mother says you are to pick 
up all that trash you left in the sitting-room,” 
she said. 

‘‘ And Florrie if you find out the secret. I’ll 
expect you to tell me what it is,” laughed 
Susan. 

When Jimmy entered the sitting-room late 
that afternoon, his little sister was rocking vio- 


156 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


lently to and fro in a big wicker chair, singing 
to herself. At sight of him the rocking 
ceased and she demanded, “ Well, how’s the 
secret? ” 

“ Don’t you worry about the secret,” Jimmy 
responded paternally. 

“ It doesn’t worry me any,” Florrie as- 
sured him cheerfully. “ But you and Robin 
had better look out. You’re going to catch 
it!” 

“ That’s all you know about it. You’re just 
fishing.” 

“ Fishing nothing. You think you’re so 
smart, with your old secret.” Florrie’s scorn 
was immense, and the confidence with which 
she spoke was disconcerting. “ You are going 
to catch it,” she repeated. 

“Say, honest, what do you mean?” de- 
manded Jimmy. “ Who’s going to catch 
it? ” 

“ I know, I know,” said Florrie, beginning 
to rock again. Suddenly she paused, and 
lifting a tightly closed fist, she extended the 
forefinger in Jimmy’s direction. The action 


WAS IT A GHOST? 


157 


was unmistakable in its suggestion. “ Think 
I don’t know? ” she asked derisively. 

Her brother became meek. “ Say, FloiTie, 
how did you find out? Did Robin tell you.” ' 

“ Robin is sick in bed.” 

Jimmy became very thoughtful. He 
couldn’t imagine how Florrie had found out 
about that pistol, acquired in a trade with one 
of the livery stable boys, but plainly she 
knew. “ Say, Florrie, if you won’t tell, you 
can come to our candy pulling.” 

“ And can I belong to the gang? ” 

“ Girls can’t belong to a gang,” Jimmy as- 
serted. 

‘‘ Then I’m going to tell.” Florrie resumed 
her rocking. 

“ Well, I’ll have to talk to Robin about it,” 
Jimmy said feebly, well aware that she had 
won. Robin was weak where Florrie was 
concerned. When Jimmy was not aroimd 
they were the best of comrades. Talking to 
him about it, was merely a brief postponement 
of the inevitable. 

For a season Florrie was happy. In the 


158 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


words of Patsy, she found hut-life one grand, 
sweet song. To be sure the stove smoked and 
the roof leaked, but these were negligible 
trifles. They suffered frequent attacks from a 
gang known as the alley boys, but they were 
successfully driven off at the point of the rusty 
pistol. Existence was further enlivened by 
all kinds of teasing tricks played upon Maria, 
Mrs. Story’s maid, who was regarded as a 
cross, old thing by all the children of the 
neighborhood. They would steal across the 
yard, back of the chapel, climb the fence and, 
when the coast was clear, make a dash for the 
kitchen porch. They scattered her clothespins, 
far and wide, hid her mops and brooms, and 
left saucy messages in chalk on the wall or 
floor. It is no wonder Florrie looked with 
pitying complacency on the little girls who 
were content to play dolls. 

When nothing more important demanded 
the attention of the hut dwellers, they feasted. 
The Brights’ cook was a genial person whose 
generosity could be counted on, and Jimmy 
and Florrie were not stinted in such things as 


WAS IT A GHOST? 


159 


cookies and apples. But it was over a bottle 
of cream that trouble arose. 

It was there when Florrie arrived, having 
been detained by the tiresome necessity of try- 
ing on a new dress. “ Why, Robin Bright, did 
Mandy let you have it?” she asked. 

Robin looked embarrassed. 

“ Where did you get it,” Florrie insisted. 

‘‘Don’t you see the name on the bottle?” 
cried Jimmy. “ ’Tain’t any of your business, 
anyhow. I knew you’d go poking into every- 
thing if we let you into the hut. Girls al- 
way do. 

Florrie was by no means stupid. She had 
seen the milk bottles left by the boy who 
brought them, on the porch shelf at the cot- 
tage. “I bet you stole it!” she cried, in 
shocked tones. 

The two sinners were not sufficiently har- 
dened in their guilt to conceal it. Florrie’s 
“Aren’t you ashamed!” made them uncom- 
fortable. What had seemed a great adven- 
ture suddenly lost its flavor. 

I’d like to know if Maria didn’t steal our 


160 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


balls? ’’ insisted Jimmy. “ They cost more 
than this old cream.” 

“ I don’t care, it isn’t right to steal, and 
it’s Mrs. Story’s cream, too,” said Florrie. 
“ There’s one thing certain you won’t go to 
heaven if you are a thief, and you’ll get put 
in jail too. And what will your father say, 
Robin Bright? ” 

Robin looked very uncomfortable. “ I’ll 
tell you, Florrie,” he said, “ We’ll pay for it. 
I’ve got a lot of dimes in my bank and I know 
how to get them out. It isn’t stealing if you 
pay for it,” he repeated. 

Even so tender a conscience as Florrie’s 
found this reasonable. Besides it suggested a 
new adventure. “ You go and get the dime,” 
she said, “ and we’ll go over and put it on the 
shelf.” 

Robin, when he returned with the dime, in- 
sisted it should be accompanied by some sort 
of missive to explain, and after great discus- 
sion, Florrie wrote on a piece of brown paper, 
with a red crayon, “ To pay for the cream. 
The Forest Outlaws.” 


WAS IT A GHOST? 


161 


Jimmy haughtily withdrew from any par- 
ticipation in the proceedings, being fully con- 
vinced, that the confiscated balls paid for the 
cream. Thus it happened that he missed the 
ghost. 

When Florrie and Robin scaled the church 
fence all was quiet in the back premises of 
the Brocade Lady’s cottage. Rufus, it should 
have been said, had gone to visit Mrs. Story’s 
brother, otherwise their mischief would have 
been impossible. It was a gray afternoon, 
and there in the shadow of the chapel it was 
almost dusk. 

Tip-toeing in the direction of the kitchen 
with sensations of fearsome excitement, they 
put the dime and the note on the shelf, secur- 
ing the latter with a stone. This accomplished, 
Robin grew more daring and proposed going 
around to the front porch and peeping through 
the side lights of the hall door. Softly they as- 
cended the steps and pressed their noses 
against the glass. As they looked, somebody 
came down the stairs. Somebody with flowing 
skirts and bobbing curls, — ^gray curls, on her 


162 


SUSAN GROWS UR 


temples. At the bottom she stood quite stiU 
for a moment, looking in their direction. 

Robin and Florrie were off like a pair of 
frightened puppies. Tumbling over each 
other, down the steps, across the yard, and over 
the fence, they finally burst in upon the dis- 
dainful Jimmy, breathless with excitement. 
They had seen the Brocade Lady! Coming 
down stairs just like anybody! 


CHAPTER XV 


STRANGE STORIES 

Strange stories began to float around con- 
cerning the Brocade Lady’s cottage. The 
Maxwells heard of it first, from Silvy. 

“ Now, Silvy, nonsense! You know how cer- 
tain you were that Christmas Tree House was 
haunted, and how all the stories were finally 
explained,” expostulated Mrs. Maxwell. 

“ It is four years since our last mystery,” 
said Susan, “ I suppose it is time for another. 
But who says so, Silvy? ” 

Silvy tossed her head and was reluctant to 
give any further information, but after some 
coaxing, owned that Jinny Breed who was 
cooking for the Brights, “ Lowed that the 
children, Robin and Jimmy and them, was 
scared to go near the Brocade Lady’s cot- 
tage.” 

“ Perhaps she doesn’t approve of her ten- 
163 


164 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


ant,” Mrs. Boone suggested, when she heard 
the rumor. “ But the Brocade Lady had a 
scorn of ghosts, I can’t believe she would ever 
be one,” she added laughing. 

A letter from Holliday caused Susan to for- 
get this new ghost story for the time. — “ I 
don’t care at all for your friend J oanna,” Hol- 
liday wrote. ‘‘ I can see she is cutting me out. 
I haven’t found any widow to supplant you 
in my affections. And what is this I hear about 
your being so interested in PManthropy? ” 

Susan, as she worked at some candy orders, 
frowned over this letter. The idea of Joanna 
or anybody supplanting Holliday was as ab- 
surd as that tiresome joke about philanthropy. 
Someone must have been writing silly gossip. 
Holliday had many correspondents. 

Significant remarks or smiles implying that 
there was something more than simply good 
friendship between her and Phil, were becom- 
ing rather frequent and annoying to Susan. 
He was much oftener at the Boones’. She was 
really fond of Phil, and liked to believe his fre- 
quent assurance that her friendship was an in- 


STRANGE STORIES 


165 


spiration to him. She enjoyed cheering him 
when he was in one of his despondent moods 
and then preaching to him. Phil said she was 
a most comfortable friend, always the same. 
Miss Cornelia, too, remarked that Susan had 
a wonderful influence over her step-son. 

“ You do not care particularly for Phil 
Grant, do you, Susan?’’ Joanna had asked 
abruptly one day. 

“ Why, no, not if you mean in love with 
him,” Susan cried, turning as rosy as if the 
contrary were true. 

‘‘ I am glad to hear it. I didn’t think you 
were. He is a born trifler. Quite charming in 
his way, just the sort to be made much of. 
Flirtation is the breath of life to him.” 

“ Oh, Joanna, I don’t think he is as bad as 
that,” Susan objected. I believe ‘he is really 
trying.” But the thought of her pin, rose up 
to make her uncomfortable. 

Meeting Joanna down town one morning 
soon after this, she remembered the ghost story 
and mentioned it. Mrs. Story heard her with 
an amused smile. “ I fancy I know how the 


166 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


report started/’ she said. “ Yes, there is some 
little foundation for it. I’ll explain later. 
You are coming to-morrow night to talk over 
plans for the hospital entertainment, aren’t 
you? Well, I’ll introduce you to the Brocade 
Lady then.” Her face was full of mischief. 

Mrs. Brand, the newly elected president of 
the hospital board, wanted to have something 
different from the usual Easter bazaar, and 
had asked Mrs. Story to help her. Among 
other things an exhibition of famous pictures 
had been suggested, and it was to discuss this 
that some of the young people were to meet at 
Mrs. Story’s. 

Phil and Lily stopped for Susan, and when 
they reached the gate of the cottage, Nettie 
and Grayson were standing at the door, so they 
all went in together. 

The sitting room was bright with many 
lights and a glowing fire. The piano was open, 
with a pile of music on the stand beside it. On 
the table lay a portfolio of prints and engrav- 
ings, but their hostess herself was not visible. 

Nettie sat down at the piano and began to 


STRANGE STORIES 


167 


play a popular college air, which had heen in 
great vogue during the holidays, and the 
others gathered around her. They were quite 
absorbed in their song, when Susan, who was 
facing the half open door, saw the Brocade 
Lady enter. For a moment she was startled, 
and puzzled too, though she at once recalled 
what Joanna had said. 

“ Oh, look! ” she exclaimed, just as Nettie 
ended with a crashing chord and swung around 
on the stool. There stood the Brocade Lady 
in the middle of the room regarding them 
gravely. 

Lily gave a shriek, and clung to Phil. ‘‘ It 
is Joanna,” cried Susan. “ She is as wonder- 
ful as Peg Woffington! ” 

"‘Why, Mrs. Story!” 

“ Is it really you? ” 

“ Did you ever see anything so clever! ” 
With many exclamations they gathered 
around her, and beneath the gray curls and the 
artistic make-up, Joanna’s smiled betrayed 
her. 

“ Lily, you aren’t really frightened? Look! 


168 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


It is Mrs. Story,” Phil was saying reassur- 
ingly, while Lily, her face hid, leaned against 
him, trembling with fright. 

“ Lily, don’t be a goose. Do look. Mrs. 
Story is worth seeing,” Nettie urged. “ It is 
the most wonderful thing I ever saw.” 

“ I didn’t mean to frighten anybody,” 
Joanna assured her with solicitude. “ Susan 
and I have been reading Peg Woffington, and 
I thought I’d illustrate the possibilities of mak- 
ing up.” 

Lily was at length persuaded to open her 
eyes and be convinced, but she was very trem- 
ulous and tearful, and a decided damper on the 
fun of the thing. 

Mrs. Story explained how she had found one 
of the Brocade Lady’s full gowns in a press in 
the garret, and how the fancy had seized her to 
try how nearly she could imitate her appear- 
ance. With the aid of a photograph she had 
amused herself one afternoon by dressing up. 
“ I intended merely to surprise Maria,” she 
said, “ but those little scamps from the Rectory 
chanced to be peeping in through the side 


STRANGE STORIES 


169 


lights of the door when I came down stairs. 
I was not certain they had seen me till I heard 
from Susan of the report that is going the 
rounds. Perhaps you know the Brocade Lady 
was a distant connection of mine, a cousin of 
my grandmother’s, and I have an idea that I 
resemble her a little.” 

‘‘ I have always been told that she was beau- 
tiful when she was young,” remarked Phil, 
gallantly, and Mrs. Story made him a sweep- 
ing courtesy. 

Lily sat in a big chair and accepted sweetly 
and languidly the apologies and attentions 
lavished on her. “ You see I am so nervous,” 
she said. She revived considerably, however, 
under the discussion of herself as Spring, after 
Mrs. Story, having changed her costume, re- 
turned and took up the work of the evening. 

It was agreed that Susan would be perfect 
as A Puritan Maiden, and Nettie who was 
fingering the prints added, “ And you, Mrs. 
Story, must be the Duchess of Devonshire/^ 

“ I don’t think I care to be in it,” Joanna 
replied, “ but I’ll tell you, we must have Miss 


170 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Seymour for Mrs, Siddons, She would make 
up beautifully for the part. Will you ask her, 
Lily?" 

“ Phil would make a good cavalier, and he 
could wear the same costume in the minuet if 
we decide to have it," added Nettie. 

“ I am beginning to think she is an actress," 
Nettie said, the next time she saw Susan. 
“ Has she ever told you what she is doing? 
She is probably studying for the stage." 

No, Joanna had never said what her work 
was, though she referred to it in a general way 
so frankly. Susan often wondered over it. 

Miss Mattie Grayson asked her once how 
she occupied her time and she answered that 
she was doing a little genealogical work, then 
gave her one of those withering looks she has at 
her command; " Nettie laughed. 

If Mrs. Story had been in search of noto- 
riety she could scarcely have achieved it more 
successfully than by that impersonation of the 
Brocade Lady. It seemed harmless enough 
when you remembered that in the first instance 
she had dressed up merely to amuse herself, and 


STRANGE STORIES 


171 


had been seen by accident, but persons like 
Miss Mattie who didn’t like her did not make 
allowances. Miss Mattie pronounced it a 
heartless performance, showing great disre- 
spect for the Brocade Lady. 

“ I can’t say I like it myself,” Mrs. Boone 
said, “ though she probably meant no harm. 
It was certainly thoughtless to come in as she 
did without any warning. Lily was all un- 
strung.” 

Naturally the hut-dwellers became involved 
in the notoriety. Stories of their pranks 
reached the Rector’s ears and led to an in- 
vestigation and strange discoveries. 

‘‘ You never in your life saw such a place,” 
Nettie said. “ The rats had been attracted 
from far and near by the eatables those chil- 
dren had left around, and Uncle Rob found a 
pistol, if you please! An ancient rusty affair, 
to be sure, and not loaded, but they are the 
most dangerous sort.” 

Mr. Bright took his son to apologize to Mrs. 
Story and the incident finally closed in the 
most friendly way. Joanna said she realized 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


m 

how much more exciting it was to take her 
cream than to purchase it at the dairy, and 
was altogther so human and reasonable that 
Robin was won over to be her enthusiastic ad- 
mirer. 

Jimmy remained of the opinion that all 
would have been well if they had not admitted 
Florrie to the hut. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE DIFFICULT ONES 

“ They are simply friends, I’m sure,” Net- 
tie was saying as Susan knocked at Aline’s 
half open door. 

“ Come in,” Aline cried, jumping up from 
her low seat on the steamer trunk. “ My other 
chair has gone to the boy’s club to be caned. 
Will you have the trunk or the bed? ” 

“ The window-sill looks inviting,” Susan an- 
swered. “ I like to look out of third story 
windows.” 

“ And you are small enough to curl up and 
be comfortable, where Aline and I can’t,” 
added Nettie. 

“ I have been meaning all winter to turn my 
trunk into a luxurious divan, but there are so 
many other things to do. I am very glad to 
see you both. Please don’t think I am not, be- 
173 


174 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


cause I go on with my work. Saturday after- 
noon is almost the only time I have for mend- 
ing.” She was putting a clumsy patch into 
what had once been a very dainty garment. 
“ Things wear out so fast. They must put 
something in the water.” 

“ Haven’t you any thinner material ? ” 
Susan asked. “ That will tear out in no time. 
Give it to me. I’ll find something and do it 
for you. You’ll ruin it.” 

‘‘ Will you, Susan? I hate to sew; but it is 
too much to let you do. I thought I had 
enough clothes to last for a year, but they are 
all going. It takes so many. My shirtwaists 
are a sight ! ” Aline sighed as she laid down her 
thimble and began to roll up her work. 

For a time she had seemed to be perfectly 
happy in her new life at the Settlement, but 
something had evidently gone wrong of late. 
The old dissatisfied look had returned to her 
face. 

“ Give me two or three. Mother likes to 
mend,” Susan urged. 

“ Thank you. You are an angel. I’ll let 


THE DIFFICULT ONES 


175 


you have two.” Aline made a neat bundle, 
then returned to her low seat, taking a discon- 
solate attitude, her chin in her hand. She 
looked thin and tired. 

“Aren’t you working too haSrd?” Susan 
asked. 

“ She is,” said Nettie. 

“ I suppose I am tempted to give too much 
time to the neighborhood work, for that is what 
I like. That, and working with the children 
in the morning, but there seems to me such a 
lot of nonsense in the things we have to do and 
study. Miss Gaynor thinks I am horrid, and 
perhaps I am.” Miss Gaynor was the train- 
ing teacher. 

“ Poor AJine, you are a born rebel,” laughed 
Nettie. “ There is no compromise in you.” 

“ Rebecca says no one can have things just 
to suit them,” sighed Aline. 

“Isn’t that true?” Miss Tryon inquired, 
standing in the doorway and fastening her 
glove. She looked the embodiment of cheer- 
ful poise. 

“ I don’t think it is honest to pretend to ap- 


176 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


prove of persons or things, when you don’t. 
Just because you want to get something from 
them.” Aline spoke in her old argumentative 
tone. 

“ Not to pretend, but to make allowance for 
honest difference of opinion,” Miss Tryon sug- 
gested gently. “ For example you may re- 
gard certain of Miss Gaynor’s ideas as foolish 
and sentimental, but if in the main she is do- 
ing fine work, why antagonize her? Why not 
cooperate so far as possible? ” 

“ That has a beautiful sound, but ” 

“ Everything is for better or for worse, isn’t 
it? ” said Susan. “ If you are going into any- 
thing you must take it so.” 

“ That is it,” answered Rebecca; “ but our 
Aline would go to the stake for a prejudice as 
unfalteringly as for a principle.” 

“ Oh, Rebecca, am I prejudiced? ” Aline 
cried. 

Perhaps a little, my child,” Miss Tryon re- 
plied, laughing as she went away. 

“ She is going to a meeting of the board, and 
they will wrangle and be tiresome and stupid. 


THE DIFFICULT ONES 177 

and she will pour oil on the troubled waters. 
I couldn’t do it.” 

“ I see Bessie turning the corner,” Susan 
announced from the window. “ She is coming 
here I think.” 

“ I’ll borrow a chair from Rebecca’s room. 
Don’t go, Nettie. It does me good to see you.” 

Bessie had been to the tea room to see that 
Susie had all the candy she needed, and then 
in search of a cook. 

‘‘We really ought to have made more of 
that nut candy, Susan,” she said. “ It is the 
most popular.” 

“ I hear you are making your fortunes,” re- 
marked Aline. 

“ Susan and I haven’t heard it yet, but we 
are doing very well. The tea room is a good 
deal of a success. It is funny, Susan wanted to 
write books and I to study medicine, and here 
we are making candy.” 

“ It isn’t too late for either,” Nettie re- 
marked. 

“ Have you heard about Phil? ” Bessie went 
on, in a manner that made it clear that this. 


178 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


whatever it was, had been uppermost in her 
mind all along. 

‘‘ Nothing very definite,” Aline answered. 

“ What about him? ” asked Susan. 

“ I wonder you haven’t heard it from Lily, 
Susan. It seems he was invited there to a card 
party Wednesday night, and when the time 
came, Phil did not.” 

‘‘ Did not came? ” laughed Susan. 

“ No, he didn’t appear, I mean, and natur- 
ally it was upsetting. Mrs. Boone telephoned 
to the Grants’, thinking perhaps he had for- 
gotten. He is absentminded, you know. The 
judge was out of town and Miss Cornelia an- 
swered. She hadn’t seen Phil, for she had been 
staying out at Miss Arthur’s, and when she 
asked the servants, they said he had not come 
in the night before. 

“ Well, in the meantime, Mrs. Boone called 
Tom up to take his place, and then before he 
had turned around, the ’phone rang again, and 
it was Miss Cornelia wanting to know if he 
could tell her anything about Phil. Her voice 
sounded as if she had been crying. Tom hates 


THE DIFFICULT ONES 


179 


cards, and was feeling pretty cross at having 
to go to the Boones’, and he thought Miss 
Cornelia was silly. He told her he didn’t know 
anything about Phil, but he was certain she had 
no occasion for worry. He had probably for- 
gotten his engagement, and gone somewhere 
else. She would see him to-morrow. 

“ Miss Cornelia wouldn’t let it alone, how- 
ever, but called up here, there and everywhere 
till she finally got hold of Grayson. He had 
to own he knew where Phil was, but said he 
couldn’t tell her. He was all right and she 
would hear from him soon. But she cried and 
insisted, until he was tired, and said, ‘ If you 
must know, Mrs. Grant, he fell off the water 
wagon.’ She took it literally, and wanted 
to know how he happened to be on the water 
wagon. She didn’t know they sprinkled the 
streets in winter, and was he at the hospital? ” 

The idea of the elegant Phil riding on the 
sprinkling cart was irresistibly funny, and for 
a moment or two overshadowed the real situa- 
tion. The girls laughed heartily over it, 
Susan was first to recover herself. 


180 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ But is it all true? — was he ” 

“ Yes,” Bessie answered. “ It is a shame 
that he will go to the Bensons'. They are the 
greatest gamblers, and always have things to 
drink. Tom says Phil can stand very little. 
You see they had to take him to a hotel to 
sober up. If it had not been for his solicitous 
stepmother, it might not have been generally 
known. She has spread it far and wide.” 

‘‘ I did think Phil was trying,” Susan said 
soberly. 

‘‘ Everybody knows you have a great deal 
of influence over him,” said Nettie. 

“ It doesn’t look as if I had.” Susan shook 
her head sadly. 

On their way home she and Bessie stopped 
at the Boones’. Mrs. Boone was still a good 
deal excited over the matter. Phil would not 
be received in her house hereafter, this was 
certain. She wished to have nothing to do with 
drunkards and gamblers. In the midst of it 
Lily burst into tears. “ You oughtn’t to call 
him such dreadful names,” she sobbed. 

“Why, Lily!” cried her grandmother in 


THE DIFFICULT ONES 181 

anxious surprise, “ you know he is both, if we 
can believe what everybody says. You are too 
tender-hearted, my darhng.’’ 

“ I think Lily is rather fond of Phil, don’t 
you? ” asked Bessie, as she walked to the gate 
with Susan. 

“ I sometimes think she is.” 

“ I have heard people say, Susan, that you 
and he ” 

“ But, Bessie, that is nonsense. You know 
it is.” 

“ I did not believe it,” Bessie assured her. 
The affectionate solicitude of Mrs. Grant 
had made this unfortunate occurrence a matter 
of general discussion. 

“ He has such pleasant manners,” Mrs. 
Maxwell remarked regretfully at the break- 
fast table. “ I have always liked Phil.” 

“ ‘ A man of words and not of deeds 
Is like a garden full of weeds 

quoted Cousin Thomas, over his prunes. 

It described Phil very well, Susan thought. 
There was much good in him, but the weeds 


182 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


of indolence and weak acquiescence in any 
pleasure of the moment, were outgrowing the 
pleasant courtesy, the humor, and kindliness. 

‘‘ I don’t know what I shall do,” said Mrs. 
Boone, running in to talk it over. “ Cornelia 
is so distressed, and full of apologies and ex- 
planations. She lays all the blame on the Ben- 
sons, but what business had he to go there? I 
told her the only thing to do was to send him 
away till it has time to blow over. It is not 
possible to ignore it now.” 

“ For his own sake if for no other reason it 
ought not to be ignored. If I understand, this 
is not the first time,” remarked Mr. Maxwell. 

‘‘ It is awfully hard to know what to do. 
We don’t want to drive him from bad to 
worse. The Bensons, you know, will receive 
him any time with open arms.” 

“ At any rate, Susan must understand he is 
not to be received in this house,” said Mr. Max- 
well sternly. 

“ Aline and Phil are the difficult ones of our 
circle,” Mrs. Brand said, talking matters over 
with Susan. “ The rest of you are normal and 
steady and satisfactory.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


PICTURES 

The thought of the pin she had let Phil 
have, annoyed Susan. She was certain Father 
would not like it if he knew, and in his present 
state of health it would never do for him to 
know. How could she get it back? She 
thought of appealing to Grayson who was a 
sensible boy and would understand, but when 
it came to the point, reticence prevented. 

Phil was dreadfully cut up, Grayson said 
as he walked home from church with her one 
morning. For his part he was sorry for him. 
Phil had a crazy head, and what would be noth- 
ing to another fellow, bowled him over com- 
pletely. 

‘‘ But he knows that, so why does he not let 
it alone,” Susan exclaimed. 

“ I don’t know. I suppose, somehow, he 
183 


184 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


can’t resist. Will Benson seems to have a 
hold on him. Phil is an extravagant boy.” 

Susan remembered those New Year’s roses. 
She had heard Joanna pricing similar ones, 
and they seemed to her absurdly expensive. 
It made her think again of Joe. 

Mrs. Maxwell, too, saw a resemblance be- 
tween them and tried to encourage Mrs. Grant 
when she alluded tearfully to their trouble. 
“And Joe’s doing so splendidly now,” she 
concluded, reassuringly. 

“ And he is your stepson too,” said Miss 
Cornelia, “ so you know a little how I feel. I 
recall now hearing that you had trouble with 
Joe at one time.” 

The door into the dining-room being open, 
Mr. Maxwell heard something of this conver- 
sation which took place in the hall, as Mrs. 
Grant was leaving. “ It seems to me, Kitty, 
the cases are scarcely parallel,” he remarked to 
his wife when her visitor had gone. “ It was 
only idleness and extravagance with Joe.” 

“ Yes, dear, I know, of course, there is a dif- 
ference, but I had to try to cheer Miss Cor- 


PICTURES 


185 


nelia,” Mrs. Maxwell answered. Later she 
asked Susan, laughing, if she remembered how 
they had once had to plead with Father for 
J oe. “ It won’t do to remind him of it now,” 
she added. 

A nervous invalid who must not be crossed 
unnecessarily, was excellent discipline in hold- 
ing one’s tongue, Susan thought. You 
learned, too, how many things are better left 
unsaid. 

Phil went away for six weeks or so, and 
after a while people grew tired discussing the 
affair, other things happened, and feminine in- 
terest began to turn towards spring fashions. 
He was missed on all sides, particularly in the 
rehearsals for the hospital entertainment. It 
was quite impossible to fill his place, Joanna 
found. 

Susan would have enjoyed the rehearsals but 
for the presence of Marian Seymour, whose 
manner had of late become more than ever con- 
descending. At some gathering soon after 
Bessie and Susan had begun their candy-mak- 
ing, she had remarked that really it was a very 


186 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


nice way in which to earn your church money. 

“ We aren’t doing it for church particularly, 
nor for any kind of charity,” Bessie assured 
her with snapping eyes, “ And Susan and I 
don’t wish anybody to think so.” 

Susan, who found it difficult to hold her own 
with Marian, was thankful Bessie was present. 

Marian lifted her shoulders and said, “ Oh, 
really? I did not understand. So you are in 
business for yourselves.” 

“ I suppose she does not like her brother to 
be friends with people who are working for 
themselves,” Susan thought, and avoided Mar- 
ian whenever she could. 

The entertainment which was to be given tHe 
week after Easter, became the occasion of 
Phil’s reinstatement. He came home several 
days before, and when at the last minute one 
of the men had to drop out of the minuet for 
some reason, what could she do but ask Phil 
to take his old place? Mrs. Story wished to 
know. Too much had been made of the mat- 
ter anyway, she said. 

He and Lily were to have danced together. 


PICTURES 


187 


but now Mrs. Boone put her foot down that 
it could not be. Lily as usual resorted to tears. 
Everybody else was being nice to him, and it 
was for the hospital. She wouldn’t be in it at 
all if she couldn’t dance with Phil. 

“ I don’t know what to make of you, Lily,” 
her grandmother said, and after talking it 
over with Mrs. Brand and Mrs. Story, she 
relented. 

Phil really behaved admirably. Bessie said 
he was as meek as Moses, but Nettie thought 
“ chastened ” was the word. He was very 
quiet, and only once or twice a little of his old 
fun bubbled out. Susan did not meet him un- 
til the last rehearsal, at the theater, the night 
before the entertainment. 

He appeared, as Bessie had said, almost 
shy, not making the least advance till she held 
out her hand. “I didn’t know. whether you 
cared to speak to me,” he said. 

‘‘ Why, of course, I do,” she answered, and 
there was no time for anything more. She 
must ask him for her pin, she decided, if the 


188 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


opportunity came, and before the evening was 
over it did. 

Phil in his cavalier costume, and Susan, the 
Puritan maiden, met in the wings. Every- 
body else was occupied with the tableau on 
the stage, which was to be followed by the 
minuet. She stopped him. “ Phil,” she said 
gently, “ I want my little pin, please.” 

“ Of course, Susan, you shall have it. I 
should have sent it to you; but — you don’t 
know how I hate to give it up. I know I have 
no right to ask you to let me try again. You 
couldn’t ever trust me ! ” 

“ I have tried to be comrades, Phil, and I 
hope you won’t give up, but I think people 
wouldn’t understand if they knew, and I’d 
rather have it back. It won’t mean we are not 
friends.” Tears rose to Susan’s eyes. She 
liked Phil and had been sadly disappointed. 

“Bless your heart! I’m not worth it,” he 
exclaimed. “ You shall have it to-morrow.” 

Susan nervously drying her eyes, was con- 
scious of somebody rustling past them. Of all 
people that it should be Marian Seymour, in 


PICTURES 


189 


her Mrs. Siddons costume? She glanced back 
over her shoulder at them, and it seemed to 
Susan that she smiled sarcastically. 

This was sufficiently annoying, but the next 
night there was a sequel. “ Do look at Susan’s 
lovely ring! ” one of the girls exclaimed in the 
dressing-room. ‘‘ Is it an engagement ring? ” 
she added mischievously. 

The ring in question had been a surprise to 
Susan on her birthday. A gift from Cousin 
Thomas, who had begun of late to show in 
many ways his regard for his young relative. 
Before she could reply, however, Marian Sey- 
mour remarked, “We can guess where it 
came from, for we all know who wears her 
pin.” 

“ Nobody is wearing my pin,” Susan cried 
flushing. (It had in fact been returned that 
day.) “And Cousin Thomas gave me the 
ring. It belonged to his mother.” 

Marian laughed disagreeably. How had 
she known about the pin? Susan wondered. 
Bessie told her afterwards that a friend of 
Marian’s who had gone to Weston Academy, 


190 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


had the same sort of pin, so it had been easy to 
guess the owner of the one Phil wore. 

These small personal incidents were insig- 
nificant compared with the importance of the 
entertainment, which was really a notable suc- 
cess, and brought in a gratifying sum to the 
hospital. Marian Seymour as Mrs, Siddons, 
Lily Boone as Spring, Susan Maxwell as the 
Puritan Maid, Mrs. Brand as the Madonna of 
the Chair with her two handsome boys, Mrs. 
Story as the Duchess of Devonshire, were long 
talked about. The audience was most en- 
thusiastic. 

In front of Mrs. Maxwell sat Miss Mattie 
Grayson with a friend who was visiting her 
from the West somewhere. The visitor was 
greatly interested in the Duchess of Devon‘S 
shire, “ Do you mean to tell me that is Mrs. 
Story? ” she exclaimed, consulting her pro- 
gram. 

“ Why yes, do you know her? ” Miss Mattie 
asked. 

“ Joanna Story? I can hardly believe my 
eyes! To come all this distance and find that 


PICTURES 


191 


woman! Know her? No, thank heaven, I do 
not, but I know about her. Don’t you remem- 
ber — ? ” but Mrs. Maxwell did not hear the 
rest. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


GOSSIP 

‘‘ I SAID to her, ‘ Why, Mattie, if that is all 
true, why wasn’t she hung? ’ ” 

It was a delicious spring day, all sunshine 
and fragrance, the windows were wide open in 
the east parlor of Christinas tree House where 
Mrs. Brand and Mrs. Boone stood talking to- 
gether. 

“ Why wasn’t who hung? ” asked Susan, en- 
tering with her arms full of dogwood. ‘‘ Isn’t 
this wonderful. Miss Margaret? Miss Arthur 
sent it in.” 

“ Nothing could be lovelier,” Mrs. Brand 
exclaimed, adding, “ Susan and Nettie are go- 
ing to decorate for me. I like woodsy, out-of- 
door things this time of year. Fortunately for 
me the dogwood is unusually late.” 

The occasion was a reception for the Colon- 
ial Dames that afternoon, and the handsome 
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GOSSIP 


193 


old mansion would be at its best in their 
honor. 

“ Everything you do is perfect, Margaret,” 
Mrs. Eoone said, “ and you have a perfect day 
thrown in. By the way your entertainment 
the other night was a dream. Everyone is 
talking about it. I’d like to have Lily painted 
as Spring. You were charming too, Susan, 
even Marian looked beautiful as Mrs. Sid- 
dons.” 

“ I really think Joanna was the greatest 
triumph, and we had so much trouble per- 
suading her to take the part,” Susan said, as 
she laid a branch of white blooms across, the 
mantel and stood back to get the effect. 

“ She was splendid in every sense of the 
word,” assented Mrs. Brand. It was about 
her we were talking, Susan. You perhaps have 
heard the gossip that is going the rounds.” 

“ Joanna! What about her? Is it she who 
ought to be hung? ” 

“ We don’t believe the rumors, of course. 
They are really ridiculous, and yet ” 

“ I didn’t say ought to be hung,” Mrs. 


194 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Boone interrupted Margaret. “ It was only 
that if what Mattie said, her friend said, was 
true, I wondered why she hadn’t been.” 

“Oh, dear, — Miss Mattie!” sighed Susan, 
half laughing. “ The last I heard she was 
suspecting Joanna of being a counterfeiter. 
There was no knowing what went on in that 
room upstairs.” 

“ Oh, but this is much worse than that, and 
while I realize Mattie is a gossip, I hardly see 
how such a story could be made up out of whole 
cloth,” Mrs. Boone frowned. “ This friend 
of Mattie’s spent some time in California a 
year or two ago, and she recognized Mrs. 
Story the minute she saw her.” 

“ You haven’t told me what it is,” said 
Susan. 

“ It is an impossible tale. It can’t be true, 
but this person whose name I have forgotten, 
says Mrs.. Story was suspected of poisoning her 
husband. There was much excitement at the 
time, she said, and the matter was hushed up, 
but she was not cleared of the dreadful sus- 
picion. Most people considered her guilty. 


GOSSIP 


195 


That is it in a nutshell ” Margaret ex- 
plained. 

Susan sat down and clasped her hands in her 
lap. “ You know it isn’t true,” she exclaimed. 
“ You can look at Joanna and see that.” 

“ I told you I did not believe it,” Mrs. Brand 
assured her. 

“ But Mrs. Story has been very reticent,” 
Mrs. Boone added. 

No one knew this better than Susan. She 
was thinking now of Joanna’s reference to 
something tragic in her experience. — But a 
gruesome, horrid thing like this was unthink- 
able, — even that she should have been sus- 
pected of such a crime.” 

“ They say she was much younger than her 
husband,” Mrs. Boone continued, “ and that 
it was a marriage of convenience, she being 
poor and he wealthy. He was a student and 
something of a recluse, she was gay and fond 
of society. 

“ And then some writer seems to be mixed 
up in it. That is the worst part. It is all bad 
enough,” said Margaret. “ What is his name? 


196 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


— the author of The Heart of Knighthood? " 

“ John Justin/’ said Susan, with a sinking 
of the heart. 

“ Yes, that is it. You are with her so much, 
have you ever heard her speak of him? Don’t 
look so distressed, child. I am not believing 
all this, .but I should like to know the truth.” 

Susan could truthfully say she had never 
heard Joanna speak of John Justin as if she 
knew him. 

‘‘ Still if there was any truth in the story 
she would be on her guard,” Mrs. Boone re- 
marked. 

Nettie, who came in in the midst of the talk, 
had heard some of the gossip. It is un- 
fortunate Uncle Rob is away just now,” she 
said, “ for he has that letter from Bishop 
Blaine.” 

Mrs. Boone shook her head gloomily. “ It 
may be a forgery,” she suggested. 

“ Well, really, we are making Mrs. Story 
out a remarkable person at any rate. She 
should have lived in the dark ages to commit 
so many crimes.” Nettie spoke cheerfully. 


GOSSIP 


197 


She was inclined to treat the whole matter 
lightly. “ When you begin to suspect a per- 
son, everything seems significant,” she said 
wisely. “ For instance Miss Mattie gives an 
impressive account of meeting Mrs. Story in 
the Express office. She carried a rather large, 
flat parcel and seemed embarrassed at sight of 
her neighbor. (I don’t wonder, if she has any 
idea of the way she had been spied upon), and 
when the clerk asked what it was, she answered 
in so low a tone Miss Mattie failed to hear what 
she said. Then he asked its value and she said 
it was difficult to estimate it. It was most valu- 
able to her and she would be relieved when it 
reached its destination. Now I don’t see any 
thing very suspicious in that, but Miss Mattie 
draws all sorts of inferences.” 

Perhaps you could speak to Mrs. Story, 
Susan. You know her so well. Just give her 
a hint of what is being said so that she may ex- 
plain if she cares to,” suggested Margaret 
Brand. 

Susan rather shrank from the idea. I am 
afraid I couldn’t. I know her life hasn’t been 


198 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


happy. She said once she would tell me about 
it sometime, but 

“It will blow' over,” Nettie prophesied 
cheerfully. “ Miss Mattie’s friend has gone, 
and Uncle Bob will settle it as soon as he comes 
back.” 

In spite of Nettie’s view of the gossip, 
Susan went home a good deal disturbed. It 
was incredible, and never for a moment would 
she believe anything but good of her friend, 
and yet she couldn’t help recalling a queer 
thing that had happened a week or two ago. 
It was true she had never heard Joanna speak 
of the author of The Heart of Knighthood as 
if she knew him, but one afternoon as she 
waited for her in the sitting-room, she had seen 
on the table a letter addressed to John Justin. 
The name, and that it was in care of some one, 
and that it had been opened, was all she saw 
in the one glance. When Joanna came in she 
seemed surprised to see the letter, which she 
picked up and locked in her desk. 

Susan had wondered why she should have 
a letter addressed to John Justin, and then the 


GOSSIP 


199 


incident had passed from her mind. Now it 
rose up to disturb her. That stranger from a 
distance who had come to see Mrs. Story last 
winter, was, perhaps, John Justin. Yet 
Joanna had not seemed so very eager to see 
him. 

“ Susan,” said her mother, “ I don’t like 
all this talk about Mrs. Story. I think I’d 
rather you did not go there so much at 
present.” 

“ But, Mother, would it be fair to give up 
your friends because they were talked about? ” 
she asked. 

“ I fear we have been a little reckless about 
Mrs. Story. I ought to have insisted upon 
knowing more of her before I allowed you to 
be friends. But I have been so occupied this 
winter. Mrs. Maxwell looked disturbed. 

“ I know one thing, Joanna has not done 
me any harm, but a great deal of good. So 
please. Mother, don’t say I mustn’t see her. 
Nettie is sure Mr. Bright will make it all right 
when he comes home.” 

It was a decided relief all around when 


^00 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Joanna called up that afternoon to say that 
she was going, on the spur of the moment, to 
spend a week with her brother in the moun- 
tains. She was tired out she said, and a few 
days in the wilds in the lovely spring weather, 
was what she needed. She only wished she 
could have Susan with her. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A BLUE MONDAY 

It is hard to explain why Mondays are 
more often blue than other days of the week, 
but it really seems so. To begin with, Susan, 
as she dusted her desk was reminded of the un- 
finished story. She could not possibly get it 
done in time for the prize contest now. It had 
been such a busy winter, and as Bessie said in- 
stead of a story writer she had become a candy- 
maker. There were moments when she felt 
rather proud of what had been accomplished 
in this line, others when she hated candy. 

The friendly note from Dick wishing she 
was coming on to commencement with Marian 
and Lily, ought to have cheered her. She did 
not really very much want to go, certainly 
not with Marian, yet she felt a pang of disap- 
pointment when she sat in Lily’s pretty room 
and viewed the new dresses spread out on the 
201 




SUSAN GROWS UP 


bed. Such lots and lots of things for just one 
girl. After the commencement the Boones 
were going down the St. Lawrence to Quebec, 
and later in the summer would be at White 
Sulphur. Mrs. Boone thought every girl 
should have a season at the White. Lily said 
Charlie and perhaps Dick, would be there in 
August. 

How easy it was for rich people to make 
their plans, Susan reflected. Dr. Thomas 
said Father must not spend the summer in 
town, but the question where to go was a puz- 
zling one. Every place they heard of was 
either too expensive or unsatisfactory in other 
ways. 

Besides this her new suit had proved disap- 
pointing. She had thought it was going to be 
so pretty and now it looked commonplace. 
She didn’t like the shade of blue, and her hat 
didn’t go with it. She knew, as we all do, that 
it was foolish to allow oneself to be unhappy 
over clothes, yet nothing is more depressing 
than an unbecoming dress. 

Altogether Susan was not exactly cheerful 


A BLUE MONDAY 


WS 

when she set out for the Settlement late in the 
afternoon. She actually quoted to herself, 
taking a pensive pleasure in the hackneyed 
lines. 


“ Into each life some rain must fall, 
Some days be dark and dreary.” 

She had been invited to come to dinner and 
afterwards see the play one of the boys’ clubs 
was giving that evening. 

Miss Tryon received her, Aline having not 
yet come in from class. I don’t know what 
has come over Aline,” she added while 
Susan took off her hat. “ At first she seemed 
so happy here, but now she is clearly de- 
pressed and, — well, rather ill humored at times, 
though always repentant afterwards. She in- 
sists she is well. If so, she is worrying about 
something. Could it be her aunt? ” 

“ I hardly think so,” Susan replied. “ Miss 
Arthur has been very ill, I hear, but few peo- 
ple knew anything about it at the time.” 

“ It may be over money. Aline has very lit- 


204 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


tie, I believe, and is rather reckless with it. 
However, in many ways, she is a dear girl.’’ 

“ But scarcely fitted to battle with this 
weary world,” finished Miss Curtiss, another 
resident, and a teacher in one of the girls’ 
schools. “ She is improving though,” she 
added, greeting Susan. “ She was quite civil 
to Miss Randall yesterday.” 

“ I am glad to hear it,” Miss Tryon said, 
laughing. “ Our last contention was over 
Miss Randall. I took her to task for being 
so lofty in her manner, and reminded her that 
the lady was chief support of the kindergar- 
ten she hopes to get sometime. She turned 
upon me almost fiercely, declaring she would 
not be a hypocrite for the sake of any posi- 
tion.” 

“ Do tell us what you said, Rebecca,” Miss 
Curtiss begged. 

“ I am afraid I was severe. I said Miss 
Randall was a good woman, and that what 
Aline considered her silliness was not a crime, 
any more than some of our peculiarities. I 
added that she herself had ways that annoyed 


A BLUE MONDAY 


205 


me extremely, but I didn’t think I was a hypo- 
crite when I ignored them. She flushed up in 
that quick way, but she didn’t flare out as she 
usually does. She only said, after a minute, 
‘ I suppose I am rather horrid.’ You can 
imagine how I felt. I hastened to tell her how 
fond we are of her, and that it was only that I 
hated to see her doing herself an injustice.” 

“ I have no doubt your plain speaking did 
her good,” Miss Curtiss remarked, as they 
went down to dinner. 

At the evening meal the residents relaxed 
and took breath. Discussion of problems was 
forbidden, and an atmosphere of genial ban- 
ter usually prevailed. The other two mem- 
bers of the family were a young physician and 
his wife. 

Susan could not help thinking when Aline 
came in hurriedly after the others were seated, 
that she looked both tired and shabby, most 
unlike the striking, well dressed girl of six 
months ago. 

There has been a mysterious disappear- 
ance,” Aline announced, after telling Susan 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


a06 

she was glad to see her, and asking for her 
father. 

“ Who now? ” asked Dr. Dinsmore 

“Of what?” Miss Tryon inquired in the 
same breath, as she served the soup. 

“ My laundry,” Aline answered. 

“ Isn’t Monday the day for laundry to dis- 
appear? ” asked Susan. 

“ Let it alone and it will come home. Miss 
Aline,” the doctor assured her. 

“ Just when you don’t want it,” added his 
wife. 

“ You are most consoling, still I’d like to 
know where it is in the meantime. It is all ow- 
ing to that fine striped bag Rebecca made me. 
I knew when I accepted it against my better 
judgment, no good would come of it.” 

“ My child, your old one was torn, and I had 
an extra one.” 

“ On the contrary it was neatly patched, 
and corresponded with the things that went 
into it,” Aline answered gayly. 

“ But how did it disappear? ” Miss Curtiss 
wished to know. 


A BLUE MONDAY m 

“ Well, in the first place, Danny White 
came for your laundry, and probably thinking 
such a stunning affair must belong to you, 
carried it off without looking further. His 
mother sent him back with it, but in the mean- 
time my wash boy had been and departed 
empty-handed. I was just starting for school 
when Danny returned with my bag and got 
yours. I gave mine to Bridget, who says she 
put it in the usual place by my door, so Mikey 
could get it on his way from school. When I 
came in at two o’clock Mikey sat on the door 
step, and greeted me with, ‘ I’ve come for 
your clothes. Miss Aline, but they ain’t here 
ag’in,’ and sure enough they weren’t.” 

“Dear me!” Miss Tryon exclaimed, 
“ They must have gone to the laundry with the 
table linen. I remember laying the package 
for the laundry on the chair by your door; no 
doubt the man carried your bag away, think- 
ing they belonged together. I am sorry. I’ll 
telephone first thing in the morning.” 

“ If that is the case, there is no harm done,” 


208 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


said Miss Curtiss. “ Your garments will be a 
little stiffer than usual.” 

“ And I shall have to pay half a dozen prices 
for them. I insist it is all owing to your bag, 
Rebecca. There was never any rivalry over 
the possession of my laundry before.” Aline 
spoke lightly, but looked annoyed. 

When dinner was over she took Susan up to 
her room till time for the play. She was not 
going down, she said. She had some studying 
to do. “ Of course it is funny about my clothes 
bag,” she said as she lit her lamp, “ but 
the truth is I am rather hard up now, and 
it is inconvenient to have to pay laundiy 
prices.” 

The income from a small life insurance 
which her father had left was all she had of her 
own, Susan knew. Aline went on to say she 
realized that she was not a good manager. 
There had been a dentist bill and numberless 
unexpected things. 

“ But, Aline, couldn’t I — ? You know I 
am quite rich,” Susan laughed, “ If you would 
let me lend you something.” 


A BLUE MONDAY 


209 


“ Thank you, Susan. If I get into too tight 
a place. I’ll call on you, but I mustn’t borrow 
if I can help it.” 

This accounted for the shabbiness. Aline 
had not had a single new thing. Susan felt 
ashamed of her own ill humor over her suit, 
which was merely not quite so pretty as she 
had expected. “ I’d be glad to. Aline,” she re- 
peated, standing before a framed motto which 
hung above the desk. 

“It is a Cornhill dodger I found in Re- 
becca’s room and asked for,” Aline explained. 

“With a little more patience, and a httle 
less temper, a gentler and wiser method might 
be found in almost every case, and the knot 
we cut by some fine heady scene in private life, 
or in public affairs by some denunciatory act 
against what we are pleased to call our neigh- 
bors’ vices, might yet have been unwoven by 
the hand of sympathy,” Susan read. 

“ Doesn’t it make you think of me? ” asked 
Aline. 

“ Not only you. Aline, but all of us,” she re- 
plied. 


SIO 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


‘‘ Me, most of all. Being down here has 
helped me to see myself, Susan. I have been 
wanting to do useful things and thinking my- 
self rather fine, and Rebecca has shown me that 
being self-controlled, sympathetic and kind, 
is the first and most important thing. Helen 
says it is refreshment just to be with Rebecca, 
and it is; but I only stir people up.” Susan 
couldn’t help smiling, it was so true. But it 
was fine in Aline to see it and own it. 

“ Do you know how Aunt Allie is? ” Aline 
asked. “ Bessie said she had been ill.” 

Susan had heard Mrs. Brand say Miss 
Arthur had been to New York to consult 
some physician. 

“ Don’t think I want to go back, for I don’t, 
but I sometimes wish I might have a chance to 
talk to her just once. Though it might not do 
any good,” she added sadly. 

Susan went home very much cheered. Was 
it only that misery loves company and is helped 
by the sight of the woes of others? That 
seemed a selfish way to find consolation. 
Wasn’t it rather that hearing the problems of 


A BLUE MONDAY 


^11 


others enlarged your outlook, and made your 
own seem less important? 

It is always dark if you shut your eyes,” 
was one of Cousin Thomas’s proverbs, and 
looking at yom* own little worries was equiva- 
lent to this. 

“ Do let me know if your laundry comes 
back. Aline,” she had called to her, after she 
said good-night. 


CHAPTER XX 


JOHN JUSTIN 

The noise and bustle of the station that 
bright June morning, the trucks rolling by 
piled high with trunks, porters running back 
and forth with hand luggage, the long train 
with its yellow-brown coaches and panting en- 
gine, the gleam of the broad river beyond the 
tracks, combined to stir within one’s soul the 
longing to be away somewhere. 

“ Don’t you wish you were going? ” sighed 
Bessie, as she and Susan walked up and down 
on the platform. “ Here they come now,” she 
added. 

Mrs. Boone and her party were leaving this 
morning and a number of their friends had 
come down to the station to see them off. As a 
ceremony it did not amount to much, for the 
girls were not allowed within the gates, and 
Mrs. Boone was nervous and anxious to be 
212 


JOHN JUSTIN 


213 


established on board. After hurried good-byes 
and regrets that they were not aU going, Bes- 
sie and Susan watched them, till accompanied 
by Phil and a heavily laden porter they dis- 
appeared within one of the Pullman coaches. 

“ Have you noticed how Lily looks at 
Phil?’’ Bessie asked as they walked back up 
the hill to Main Street. 

Susan hadn’t ; she was not very observant of 
such things. “ Do you think she is in love with 
him? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, I don’t know. I think Mrs. Boone is 
afraid of it. Phil has always liked Lily, and 
he knows it would be a good thing for him, 
probably. Phil is never going to do any- 
thing.” 

‘‘ You don’t think he would marry Lily for 
her money? ” Susan exclaimed. 

“Not just for money,” Bessie answered, 
laughing. “ To change the subject, do you 
know yet where you are going? ” 

“ No. Mrs. Bright called up last night to 
tell Mother about a place near White Sulphur. 
Father likes the idea, for he is so much better 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


2U 

he thinks he’d enjoy the fishing. Nettie is go- 
ing, why can’t you join the party? ” 

“ I wish I could, Susan, but someone must 
stay and look after Father, Mother needs a 
change and is going to Carrie’s. There goes 
the Seymour carriage. Wouldn’t it be funny 
if Marian were left? ” 

At North Street they separated, and as 
Susan turned the corner a sudden impulse took 
her into the church. After her long walk in 
the sun it seemed deliciously cool and quiet. 
She could hear the sexton whistling over his 
work somewhere out of sight, as she went softly 
up the broad aisle and sat down where she 
could see Elsie’s window, and between it and 
the chancel, the Wise Man’s tablet. 

With her eyes on the Resurrection Angel, 
her hands folded in her lap, she began to feel 
very still and peaceful, quite willing to be 
Everyday Susan. It would have been fun to 
go with Lily to the Commencement, still if 
they went to West Virginia she would see them 
all at White Sulphur. Mrs. Boone said she 
was going to ask her and Nettie up to spend 


JOHN JUSTIN 


215 


several days. Dick and Charlie would be 
there. Dick would tell her about his plans. 
She had asked Lily to explain to Marian about 
the pin, and her annoyance over that had 
passed. In the silence, Susan travelled the 
winding road to the towers of dreamland until 
the opening door and the appearance of the 
janitor with bucket and mop, broke the spell. 

Outside the church she met Mr. Seymour, 
who stopped and shook hands. He was sorry 
she was not going to the commencement. 
Could not she reconsider and go on with him 
day after to-morrow? 

Joanna stood at the cottage door and called 
her in. Several weeks in the mountains had 
done her good, she sparkled with new vitality. 

“You won’t have many more chances to see 
me,” she said. “ I am going away, far away, 
soon. But you don’t care, little iceberg, do 
you? ” she added, with an arm about her as they 
entered the sitting-room. 

“ Oh, Joanna! ” cried Susan, coming out of 
her dreaming mood, “ I do, you know I do. 
Where are you going? ” 


216 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ Somewhere abroad. I’m not quite sure 
yet. But let me look at you. You are either 
in love or you have malaria.” 

“Joanna, nonsense!” Susan laughed. “I 
stopped in St. Mark’s and almost went to 
sleep.” 

Mrs. Story drew her down on the sofa. 
“ Tell me,” she said, “ have you been hearing 
stories about me? Now don’t look so distressed, 
child. They were certain to crop up, and I 
invited it by my imprudence in appearing in 
public. I guessed from something Mr. 
Bright said to me that I was the victim of gos- 
sip again. I realize that it is something of a 
test of loyalty to be told your friend had com- 
mitted a horrid crime.” 

“ Nobody could know you and believe it,” 
Susan whispered, pressing the hand she held. 

“ I have often thought I would tell you a lit- 
tle of the miserable story, but I hated to, when 
it came to the point. My husband did not die 
of poison, Susan, although at one time he, as 
well as several members of the family, includ- 
ing myself, suffered from the effects of poison 


JOHN JUSTIN 


217 


somehow secretly administered. It was ter- 
rible, and for a while — a long while, a mys- 
terious thing. The truth was at length dis- 
covered. The real criminal is now in a sani- 
torium. There were many reasons for keeping 
the matter quiet, but what I am telling you 
can be proved. Mr. Bright knows. Is there 
anything you would like to ask me? Any- 
thing. If I cannot answer, I will say so 
frankly. I will not be hurt at your question. 
I promise.” 

Susan looked at the floor. “ Joanna, do you 
know John Justin? ” 

Mrs. Story was plainly surprised. “ Yes,” 
she said. “Why?” 

“ Is he a very great friend? ” 

“ Yes, I suppose so. Again why? ” 

“ Because — ” Susan hesitated, “ because 
they say ” 

“ What do they say? Out with it.” 

“ That you are in love with him.” Susan’s 
color was very high, and she still looked at the 
floor. 

Joanna laughed. “ How funny! ” she cried. 


218 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


drawing Susan to her in a caress, “ Child, how 
funny! but what would be the harm if I were? 
So that is what they have been saying. Thank 
you for telling me. I think I’ll confide in you, 
but you must keep my secret for a while.” 
She rose and went to her desk. “ Here is John 
Justin’s last photograph,” she said. 

Susan took it with a queer fluttering of her 
heart, then, “Joanna!” she . faltered, “You 
don’t mean? — Why didn’t I guess? ” 

“ I think you were a little stupid, dearest. 
Remember you must keep your own coimsel 
for a time.” 

“ Aline said she was certain you knew him,” 
Susan remarked, her eyes still on the photo- 
graph. 

Joanna suddenly hid her face on Susan’s 
shoulder. “You don’t know, you can never 
guess, how I have suffered, and this has kept 
me from despair.” 

“ Oh, Joanna, I am so proud of you. I 
wish I could go around telling everybody, but 
I won’t if you are not ready. But I think you 


JOHN JUSTIN 


219 


are splendid. I shall have to get acquainted 
all over again.” 

Mrs. Story lifted her head and smiled, 
“Dear little, good little, loyal little Susan!” 
she said. “ What would this winter have been 
without you? I wonder if I can ever do any- 
thing for you? ” 

“ As if you hadn’t done lots more for me 
than I for you!” Then Susan remembered 
the letter addressed to John Justin which she 
had seen on the table, and mentioned it. 

Joanna laughed. “ I remember. I won- 
dered at the time if you noticed it. Oh, I was 
dying to tell you all the while, but I felt I must 
not. I must get further away from my sor- 
rowful past, before it is generally known.” 

With Mr. Bright’s return the gossip about 
Mrs. Story came to an end. He approached 
Miss Mattie and her sister in such a tactful 
manner as to flatter them into listening 
patiently while he explained the falsity of the 
rumors. He showed them the outside of the 
Bishop’s letter and asked their help in contra- 
dicting the reports. 


2S0 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


It was trying to have a secret you couldn’t 
so much as hint at to anyone. Susan felt ac- 
tually burdened with what she had heard 
about John Justin. It required an effort to 
put her mind on summer plans. 

Mrs. Bright had been in to discuss the West 
Virginia place. Some friends who had a sum- 
mer home in the hills and were going elsewhere 
this year offered it to her for a very reasonable 
rent. The plan was to do cooperative house- 
keeping; the Brights and the Maxwells and 
one or two others. Mr. Maxwell was greatly 
interested. Dr. Thomas said it would be the 
very place for him. Susan came out of her 
dream. It would be fun, she decided. 


CHAPTER XXI 
aline’s laundry 

As I came out of Browinski’s this morning, 
Susan, I saw Miss Arthur’s carriage, and I am 
almost certain Aline was in it.” 

“ It couldn’t have been, I am sure. Mother,” 
Susan looked up from her sewing to answer. 
‘'It is almost two weeks since I saw her last. 
I have been wondering if she found her laun- 
dry bag, and what she will do this summer? ” 

It turned out, however, that Mrs. Maxwell 
had really seen Aline ; moreover that the 
strange and unexpected turn of affairs might 
be said to have been brought about by means 
of that wandering laundry bag. It supported 
Miss Try on in one of her favorite reflections, 
that momentous results frequently hinge upon 
trifling incidents. If she had not given Aline 
a new bag, in all probability it would not have 
been mistaken for Helen’s, and would not have 
221 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


appeared on the scene again just in time to be 
appropriated by the man from the laundry, 
and if it had not gone to the laundry the queer- 
est mistake of all would not have been made. 
This is how it happened. 

Miss Arthur had just returned from the 
East where she had gone to consult a famous 
specialist. His verdict had not been reassur- 
ing. She must choose between invalidism and 
a dangerous operation. If she decided on the 
latter as she probably should, there were many 
things to be thought of and attended to, and 
she felt unequal to the effort. She was smitten 
with a terrible loneliness. There was nobody 
to whom her death made the slightest differ- 
ence. And there was all her money. She had 
said her niece should not have a penny of it, 
but what should she do with it? She had no 
pet charities, and while, of course, she could 
think of any number of institutions which, were 
so far as she knew, doing valuable work and 
would be glad of a bequest, she felt an al- 
most fretful disinclination to investigate their 
claims, yet she had a horror of wasting money. 


ALINE’S LAUNDRY 


22S 


As she thought of it she grew more and more 
bitter toward Aline. But side by side with the 
bitterness grew a hunger for somebody who 
belonged to her. 

This state of mind reacted upon her health 
and she was really ill for a week, then begin- 
ning to realize that her death was not an ab- 
solute certainty in the near future, that on the 
contrary she might live many years longer, she 
rallied again. She would send for her lawyer 
to talk over matters, she would also discuss 
with Margaret Brand a memorial wing to the 
hospital. She was writing a note to Mrs. 
Brand when she was interrupted by one of the 
maids, one who had been in her employ hut a 
short time, with a question about some laundry. 

“ What is it, Mary? ” she asked, laying down 
her pen. 

“ It’s some things they have sent with yours 
from the laundry. Miss Arthur, and marked 
with your name.” 

“ Well, aren’t they mine? They must be if 
they are marked,” her mistress said, im- 
patiently. 


224 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ Indeed, and you wouldn’t own ’em,” cried 
the girl. 

Miss Arthur, her curiosity aroused, followed 
her into the next room where the little collec- 
tion of garments she scorned, was spread out to 
the worst advantage on a couch. Among other 
things were three shirtwaists, stiffly starched, 
and folded with a military exactness quite out 
of keeping with their shabbiness. 

Miss Arthur adjusted her glasses. 
“ Marked with my name, you say? How ab- 
surd! ” 

“ Shall I telephone to the laundry to send 
back for them? ” Mary asked. 

“ I suppose so, yes,” Miss Arthur spoke 
slowly, her eyes still on those shirtwaists look- 
ing oddly defiant as they leaned against the 
foot-board of the bed. When the maid had 
left the room she stooped and turned back one 
of the neck bands. Yes, there was the familiar 
name, A. E. Arthur. “ They are hers of 
course,” she exclaimed. 

Sitting down she stared at those shabby, 
dauntless shirtwaists. They had a story to teU 


ALINE’S LAUNDRY 


225 


and she listened to it. She had wondered how 
Aline was living. The child had no idea of the 
value of money. These things said how. 
Well, it was her own fault and exactly what 
she deserved. Miss Arthur to her own sur- 
prise suddenly burst into a laugh. There was 
something irresistibly comic in the helpless de- 
fiance of those garments. How like Aline! — 
How like herself! ‘Her laughter turned to 
tears. “ I came to realize,” she told Margaret 
afterwards, “ that Aline is like me. That in 
her place I should very probably have acted as 
she has.” 

Although it seemed a sudden turn of affairs, 
in reality the loneliness of the winter, her in- 
creasing need of a companion, of someone be- 
longing to her, the uncertainty she was facing, 
had all united to prepare Miss Arthur to listen 
to the plea of those forlorn shirwaists. ‘‘ Aline 
would never have appealed to me, never,” she 
assured herself, and found a certain satisfac- 
tion in the thought. 

To the surprise of her household. Miss 
Arthur ordered her carriage and drove to town 


226 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


that afternoon. The coachman was more than 
surprised at the directions he received, and 
was half inclined to believe his mistress was 
losing her mind. 

The neighborhood of the Settlement most of 
whom were taking the air on the sidewalks, 
was enraptured at sight of the elegant victoria 
stopping before the Corner House. Miss 
Arthur alighted. “ Can any of you tell me 
where Miss Aline Arthur lives? ” she asked, 
addressing a group of gazing children. 

“ Yes’m,” came in a chorus. ‘‘ She lives 
in there. She’s just went in.” 

While Miss Arthur waited after ringing the 
bell, through the half open door she heard a 
familiar voice in the hall above, evidently at 
the telephone. “ They took my laundry by 
mistake and it has not been returned,” was 
what she heard. 

A small Irish girl appeared in response to 
her ring, and inquired when Miss Arthur 
asked for her niece, “ Who will I say do be 
wanting to see her? ” 

“ Tell her someone wishes to speak to her 


ALINE’S LAUNDRY m 

about her laundry,” the lady replied, smiling. 

“ The saints preserve us ! ” the girl ex- 
claimed, as she went upstairs after showing the 
visitor into Miss Tryon’s office. 

“ A terrible grand lady do be wantin’ to see 
you. Miss Aline,” she announced. “ And she 
says it’s about her laundry.” 

It was a breathless sort of meeting. A 
strange embarrassment overwhelmed them 
both at first. “ Aline, I need you. Will you 
come back to me?” Miss Arthur began, and 
tears stopped her words. She was far from 
strong and the long drive had tired her. 

To be needed was what Aline longed for, 
and the sight of her aunt in tears swept away 
any bitterness that remained. “ I have been 
so unhappy since I heard you were ill,” she 
cried, kneeling beside her. “ Of course I’ll 
come back if you want me. I know now, how 
wrong I sometimes was.” 

“We are both proud and stubborn. Aline, 
but perhaps we could put up with each other 
if we recognized the fact. Oh, my child, those 
dreadful shirtwaists with their arms folded be- 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


hind them, were so exactly like you, I couldn’t 
stand it.” Miss Arthur laughed through her 
tears. 

“ I didn’t know you cared,” Aline exclaimed 
wonderingly. 

“ And I didn’t know you did,” added her 
aunt. 

“ Did you ever hear anything so odd, 
Susan? ” Aline asked, when she had related the 
whole story. ‘‘ Rebecca gives all the credit to 
the laundry bag. It got lost, and reappeared 
at the psychological moment, she says. I know 
what people will say,” she continued. “ That 
I made a failure of being independent. It 
does hurt my pride a little to give up, but Aunt 
Allie needs me. There is to be an operation, 
and she must get stronger first.” 

“ I am just as glad as I can '>e for you both,” 
Susan said. “ And if you don’t mind my men- 
tioning it, it is lovely to see you in such pretty 
clothes again.” 

“ I fear I was getting to be rather a sight. 
Aunt Allie is wonderfully kind. I am to have 
my own income, to do with as I please, and she 


ALINE’S LAUNDRY 


229 


says if she gets well she does not intend to be 
a drag on me in any way. You can’t think 
how different she is. I shall never again go 
away from her, certainly not so long as she 
needs me.” 

What a different Aline was this from the 
one she had talked to at the Settlement two 
weeks ago- Would it last? Susan wondered. 

“ They both have had a lesson,” said Mrs. 
Brand, ‘‘ and while no doubt there will be fric- 
tion I am inclined to believe matters will never 
again come to the breaking point.” 

The next news was that Phil was to go to 
California. The West was the place for 
young men, the judge remarked, hopefully, 
and Anne Mary’s influence would do wonders 
for him. 


CHAPTER XXII 


GREENBRIER 

“ I see the clouds away up high, 

All soft and white; 

I see the birds that swiftly fly, 

I see a kite. 

I’ll tell you what, I wish that I 
Were nice and light; 

Then up I’d go, till by and by, 

I’d be a speck far in the sky 
’Most out of sight.” 

Susan and Nettie had settled themselves on 
the rocky hillside to write letters. Nettie was 
really doing it, but Susan’s eyes would travel 
far away across the valley where the shining 
curves of the railroad kept pace with the wind- 
ing river, until it disappeared in the darkness 
of the tunnel. Below them the red roof of 
their summer home just showed among the 
230 


GREENBRIER 


231 


trees, and in the meadow behind it, she 
could see Robin and Florrie with some of 
the neighborhood children, sailing a kite. 
Overhead was a wonderful blue sky with great 
floating masses of cloud that made soft 
shadows on the hills. Instead of her letter 
Susan wrote the little rhyme above. 

“ I think it is quite as good as some of 
Robert Louis Stevenson’s,” Nettie said, when 
she read it aloud. 

Susan laughed. “ Thank you. I fear it 
does not deserve such high praise, but I had 
to get it out of my head. I never before 
guessed how comfortable rocks could be,” she 
added with a sigh of contentment. 

If you don’t mind ants and spiders, not to 
mention crickets,” said Nettie, going back to 
her letter. 

Susan leaned her head against her comfort- 
able rock and watched the cloud shadows 
and the far-away kite, allowing her thoughts 
to wander. They had been at Greenbrier 
four happy weeks. Father was really himself 
again. In the sturdy bronzed fisherman it was 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


hard to recognize the pale invalid of last 
winter. Mother was talking of leaving him 
and going to see grandmother. One scarcely 
knew how the long happy days passed. Walks 
and drives, bathing and rowing, gathering 
ferns and wild flowers, eating and sleeping 
and going to the little village post-office 
for the mail; such things as these fllled them 
to the brim with joy. The sum of bliss 
was increased considerably by the advent of 
Florrie Mann whom Mr. Bright brought up 
with him the week before. The child had been 
ailing and needed a change, and she was as 
good as gold away from Jimmy. Robin was 
overjoyed to have her, and Florrie was almost 
beside herself with delight. 

That morning Susan had had her first letter 
from Joanna, written on shipboard. Such a 
charming and characteristic letter, full of 
affection. In the midst of their preparations 
for the summer it had not been half so hard as 
it might otherwise have been to say good-bye to 
Joanna. With Nettie calling up every few 
minutes to know if Susan would take this and 


GRIJENBRIER 


233 


should she take something else, and with Robin 
running back and forth between times on all 
sorts of errands, it was not posssible to take 
other than a cheerful view of life. 

Mrs. Story was not coming back to the Bro- 
cade Lady’s cottage. Her plans were uncer- 
tain. “ But you and I will meet again, little 
girl,” she told Susan, “ I am sure of that. 
And you must write to me. Perhaps when 
your father is well you can come to me abroad 
somewhere.” 

“ I’ll add that to my collection of dreams,” 
Susan replied merrily. “ I store them in the 
castle at the end of the winding road,” point- 
ing to the picture over her desk. She had 
brought her friend up to her own room where 
the least packing was going on. 

The picture is charming, but you have to 
climb a steep road to reach your dreams,” Mrs. 
Story remarked. 

‘‘ I don’t mind climbing,” Susan answered. 

“What did Lily say?” Nettie inquired 
suddenly, as she signed her name to her letter. 

“ Oh, I forgot to tell you. Nothing very 


234 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


much. Lily never does. They are in Boston 
now, but leave to-morrow for New York. 
They may stay there a day or two if it isn’t 
too hot, and they expect to be at the White, 
early next week. Mrs. Boone wants us to 
come up and at least stay over night. I think 
spending the day would be enough, don’t 
you? ” 

“ If she wants us, I think it would be fun 
to stay over. Is Charlie with them? ” 

“ I suppose so. Yes, Lily said Charlie 
stopped over a day to see a friend in Portland. 
He must be with them now. She didn’t men- 
tion Dick, though. Marian, she said, was at 
White Sulphur now with Josephine.” 

“ I wish Bessie could come up for a while,” 
continued Nettie, “ but she says she cannot 
possibly. They are to close the tea room in 
August. She told me to tell you that she had 
filled a few orders, but intended to rest from 
now on. There is scarcely a soul left in town, 
Tom and Grayson have gone camping and 
taken Jimmy. Phil left last week. Bessie 
says she has put away all the ornaments and 


GREENBRIER 


235 


hangings for a change, and it seems peaceful 
and cooler.” 

Robin and Florrie came scrambling up the 
hillside. “Hi, Susan! Hi, Nettie!” they 
cried, and Robin asked, “ Don’t you want to 
see a field of wishes? ” 

“ That isn’t it, Robin, it is a wishing field,” 
corrected Florrie. 

“ Oh, that is different,” said Susan. “ I was 
going to ask if all the wishes had come true. 
I’d like to see such a field.” 

“ They ’most always do come true, Marsie 
says,” Florrie explained. “ But you have to 
make them first.” 

“Come on! Don’t you want to see it?” 
urged Robin. 

“ How far is it? ” Nettie asked, lazily. 

“ I’ll go with you. I don’t feel like writing 
letters. If I don’t return, would you mind 
bringing my portfolio, Nettie? There is noth- 
ing like asking favors.” Susan began to put 
away her pen and paper. 

“ Run along. I’ll bring it,” Nettie answered, 
obligingly. 


236 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


It was down one hill, through queen’s lace 
and daisies, over a fence and up another hill to 
the field of wishes. “ Why that is mullein,” 
Susan said, pausing to rest on top of a second 
rail fence. Before them stretched a wonder- 
ful crop of mullein stalks, some higher than 
her head, some shorter, reminding her of cathe- 
dral candles. “What about wishes?'” she 
asked. 

“ Why, Marsie says,” Florrie explained, 
“ that you must bend one of the stalks till it 
gives way and stays bent, you know, then you 
make a wish, and next day if the end of the 
stalk has turned up, your wish will come true.” 

“ Do they really turn up, ever? ” Susan 
asked skeptically. 

“ Yes, indeed. Marsie says they almost 
always do,” Robin answered, and then he 
and Florrie in one breath, related how Marsie 
had wished on a stalk just the other day that 
she might go with her aunt to Charleston, and 
there was the drooping stalk with its end 
turned skywards, and Marsie was going to- 
morrow.” 


GREENBRIER 


237 


“ I made a wish once that came true,” said 
Susan, “ I wished on the new moon for a bosom 
friend, and found Holliday.” 

Robin seemed inclined to think it rather a 
waste to wish for friends. You could pick 
them up any time, in his opinion. 

“ Not people like Holliday,” Susan told 
him. 

“ I like Holliday ! When is she coming 
home? I was quite a little boy when she went 
away,” he said. 

“ Let’s each make a wish and come back to- 
morrow and see if they are coming true,” pro- 
posed Florrie. “ Marsie says you mustn’t 
make more than one at a time, for that is 
greedy.” 

Susan balancing herself on the top rail of 
the fence wondered what she should wish. 
There seemed very little left to wish for just 
now. Another month of summer stretched 
happily before her, and in October Holliday 
was coming, probably, she told Robin. She 
would wish that nothing might happen to 
spoil Holliday’s visit. What could spoil it? 


238 SUSAN GROWS UP 

It would have to be something very dread- 
ful. 

She took a stalk near at hand for her wish, 
but Robin and Florrie were more choosy, to 
use one of Silvy’s words, and went in search of 
the tallest ones they could find. Waiting for 
them in the fence corner, where a feathery 
locust grew, Susan, having begun the morning 
with a rhyme ended it by making up a story 
about the wishing field. 

As they went home down hill and across 
meadows she told it to the children, and it grew 
and grew with their delight in it. It had to do 
with a fairy who lived in the heart of the locust 
tree, with a big black and yellow spider on 
guard at her door, who from her tiny window 
watched over the Wishing Field; also a wicked 
ogre who made his home in a cave on the op- 
posite hillside and spent his time trying to spoil 
wishes. 

Robin was fired with a determination to 
explore the cave that very afternoon, — there 
really was one on that hill — and his enthu- 


GREENBRIER 


239 


siasm spoiled the moral Susan was working up 
to. 

“ I think you tell lovely stories, Susan,’’ 
Florrie said appreciatively. “ You don’t sup- 
pose there could really be an ogre living there, 
do you? ” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


AT WHITE SULPHUR 

‘‘ Why, Susan, I am certain I wrote you 
about it,’' said Lily. “ It was rather sudden. 
Dick said he thought he ought to go with his 
father. I had a card from him, from St. 
Moritz, last week.” 

“ No, you didn’t, Lily, this is the very 
first we have heard of it,” Nettie assured her. 
“ We expected to see him here with you.” 

“ I don’t know what came over Dick. He 
was decidedly down in the mouth about some- 
thing,” said Charlie- “ He would go, and yet 
he didn’t seem so very keen over it, either.” 

“ Marian is here with us,” Lily added. 

“ Which will console you, I’m sure,” laughed 
Charlie. “Here Sam! look after these bags, 
will you? We are going to walk up.” 

This was at the station at White Sulphur 
where Susan and Nettie had just arrived after 
240 


AT WHITE SULPHUR Ml 

a journey of three quarters of an hour spent 
for the most part in standing still on a side 
track, Nettie declared. 

“ You and Susan are as brown as — Lily 
hesitated for a comparison, and Charlie sug- 
gested, “ Berries, or buns or biscuits.’' 

“We are not at all sure we know how to be- 
have, we have been in the wilds so long,” Susan 
said gayly. “ But I thought it was the cor- 
rect thing to he tanned. I am surprised 
about Dick,” she added as she and Charlie 
walked up the road together. She might have 
said, “ And disappointed and puzzled,” for ig- 
nore it as she would, beneath her gayety there 
lurked a hurt feeling. Why had Dick gone off 
to Europe without a word? — When he had 
said ” 

“ I thought perhaps you knew why he went,” 
Charlie remarked, giving her a searching 
glance. 

“I, Charlie? Why?” But Lily inter- 
rupted with something about the german the 
night before. Marian Seymour had led with 


2i<2 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


a New Orleans man, she said, and it was 
lovely.” 

“ Marian has made the catch of the season,” 
continued Charlie. “At least it looks that 
way.” 

Over Susan’s interest in the historic old 
watering-place, so picturesque in its mountain 
setting, with its winding roads and homelike 
cottages, a gray vail had fallen. It was silly. 
It was because she had been taken by surprise, 
she told herself again and again, in her ab- 
sorption only half hearing her companions 
merry talk. 

Mrs. Boone was on her cottage steps. 
“ Well, girls! this is nice. I feel I am getting 
nearer home each day.” 

“ Your remark has a too sweetly sol- 
emn sound. Grandmother,” protested Charlie, 
laughing. 

“ What do you mean? Don’t be sacreli- 
gious Charlie, Susan and Nettie know what I 
mean. We have had a good time and met 
charming people, but there is nothing like the 
Southern atmosphere if you are used to it. 


AT WHITE SULPHUR 


243 


Won’t you sit down? I ask it with hesitation, 
for young people nowadays must be on the go 
every minute.” 

“ Susan and I have been leading a more 
quiet life,” Nettie assured her. “ We are 
ready to sit and talk to you for a while. Does 
Lily dress like this every day, or is it in our 
honor? ” she continued. 

“ I don’t wear white always,” Lily answered, 
literally, glancing down at her embroidered 
linen. “ Eut they do dress a great deal here. 
There is usually something going on, even in 
the mornings. Card parties, and germans, or 
musicales, always something. What do you 
do at Greenbrier? ” 

“ We eat and sleep and walk and row, drive 
occasionally, have picnics, go to the post-of- 
fice, gather flowers and read. Anything else 
Susan? ” 

“ We are learning to swim, and I go fish- 
ing with father sometimes. I believe that is 
all you have omitted.” 

“ And you don’t have any dances? ” Lily ex- 
claimed. 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


24)4 

“ Not what you would call dancing. Mrs. 
Bright plays for us occasionally and we dance 
with the children. You see we haven’t any 
beaux.” 

“ Anyhow it sounds awfully jolly to me. 
Society life is wearing. If I hadn’t promised 
Gran, I’d cut it next week.” 

As Charlie spoke Marian Seymour came up 
the steps accompanied by a tall, young man 
in tennis clothes. She was beautifully dressed 
and looked very handsome. Her manner was 
unusually cordial as she greeted the visitors. 
She was about to present her companion when, 
with an exclamation of surprise, he held out 
his hand to Susan. 

“ Her Shyness, isn’t it? What a charming 
surprise 1 ” 

For a moment Susan gazed in bewilder- 
ment at this stranger who called her by that 
old nickname and smiled so mischievously, then 
almost involuntarily she exclaimed, “ Cousin 
Jack! — I mean Mr. Mcfarland,” she added, 
laughing. “ I didn’t dream of seeing you.” 

“ Cousin Jack is all right,” he assured her. 


AT WHITE SULPHUR M5 

“ I should have known you anywhere, though 
you have put on long dresses.” 

He was the same cordial, easy-to-be-ac- 
quainted- with Mr. Jack of that never to be 
forgotten visit to New Orleans, three years 
ago. Susan felt at home with him at once as 
he sat on the porch rail beside her chair and 
wished to know what she had been doing all 
this time. 

“ All kinds of things,” she told him. “ But 
I haven’t been to fairyland since.” 

“ You must come next winter,” he said. “ I 
hope Holliday will be there then. Miss Sey- 
mour has half promised us,” he looked across 
the group to Marian. “ Why couldn’t you 
come together?” 

Marian said it was the thing of all others 
she most wished to do. Susan couldn’t promise 
so far ahead, but she smiled inwardly at the 
idea of going anywhere with Marian. 

Charlie and Jack were due at a tennis game, 
and soon after their departure Marian went 
to her room to write a letter. 

“ You will see Mother and Corinne at the 


246 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


hotel after lunch,” Jack told Susan as he was 
leaving. “ They will be charmed to meet an 
old friend, and one who knows Holliday.” 

“ I quite forgot that you knew the Macfar- 
lands,” Mrs. Boone said. “ They are the most 
popular people here.’’ 

It was not to be wondered at, Susan 
thought when she sat talking with them on the 
hotel gallery some hours later. They were 
charming with their soft voices, their simple 
gracious manners, their ease and freedom 
from affectation. She saw little resemblances 
now and then to Holliday, which had escaped 
her before. And what a pleasure it was to talk 
of her friend and to be assured that she was 
certainly coming home. 

Mrs. Mcfarland thought her brother had 
made a mistake in allowing Holliday to stay 
with the Lawrences so long. He seemed blind, 
she said, to the likelihood of a foreign mar- 
riage, but lately his eyes had been opened to 
the danger. 

“ We hear all sorts of rumors, but nothing 
definite,” Jack added. 


AT WHITE SULPHUR 


247 

“ Susan probably knows more than we,” 
Corinne suggested, smilingly. 

Susan shook her head. She knew nothing 
at all, she said, but this talk of Holliday’s mar- 
rying gave her a pang. 

Life at a large watering place in the height 
of the season was a novel experience to Susan, 
and in spite of that foolish, hurt feeling, she 
enjoyed her visit. The two days brimmed over 
with entertainment. She would have been 
happy in simply looking on at the brilliant ball- 
room that first evening, but she agreed with 
Nettie that it was more fun to be in it. It was 
pleasant to have Mrs. Mcfarland admire her 
dress, and tell her once more, she was a dear, 
little Puritan. “ I don’t know what it is about 
me that makes you call me so,” she said, “ but 
there is evidently something, for they made me 
be Priscilla in the pictures last winter.” 

Mrs. Mcfarland bent and kissed her. “ It is 
something your friends wouldn’t have changed 
for the world, my dear.” 

“ Does Lily seem quite well to you? ” Mrs. 
Boone asked Susan, the morning before they 


S48 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


left. “ I don’t know, — perhaps I am foolish, 
hut she isn’t like herself. I am afraid she 
needed a more restful summer, and yet when 
there is nothing going on she mopes.” 

Susan had thought her a little absent-minded 
and indifferent, but she could not mention this. 
“ She is thinner, Mrs. Eoone,” she replied, 
“ but she wants to be ; and she is lovely. She 
seems well.” 

“ You know I lost a daughter just Lily’s 
age. She is her namesake. Probably I am 
foolish about her.” Mrs. Boone sighed. 

A few minutes later, Susan found herself 
alone with the subject of this conversation. 
Lily stood twisting her rings and looking 
out of the window. “ Do you know Marian 
thinks you are engaged to Phil?” she asked 
abruptly. 

“Why, Lily, you know it isn’t so, don’t 
you?” Susan cried. 

Lily looked at her with a queer, little smile, 
still twisting her rings. “ I don’t suppose you 
are, Susan, because I am.” 

“ Oh, Lily! ” was all her friend could find to 


AT WHITE SULPHUR 249 

say at the moment to this surprising announce- 
ment. 

“ Now Susan, you must not tell. I’m trust- 
ing you. You are almost the only one who 
knows. No, I can’t tell Grandma. We are 
going to wait till Phil is established. He has 
gone into the real estate business in San 
Francisco. He says there is a splendid 
opening. Grandma is prejudiced, you 
know.’’ 

“ But Lily, — of course, I know Phil is very 
nice, but do you think you ought to be en- 
gaged to him now? Wouldn’t it be better 
to say, ‘If?’ He hasn’t been quite steady,, 
and ” 

“ But I am in love with him, Susan. I can’t 
help that, can I? He has turned over a new 
leaf. Anyway I am going to be engaged to 
him. It would do no good to tell Grandma. It 
would make her unhappy all for nothing.” 

There was a quiet finality in Lily’s manner 
that made argument seem useless. After a 
moment’s silence Susan said, “ I suppose you 
told Marian she was mistaken? ” 


S50 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ No. I didn’t mind her thinking so,” Lily 
answered, calmly. 

“ But I mind it,” cried Susan, in some ex- 
asperation. “ I should think you’d see how 
very trying it is to me to have such a report 
going about.” 

I didn’t know you felt so about it,” Lily 
remarked. “ I’ll tell her it isn’t so. I did not 
wish her to suspect about me. Have you and 
Dick had a quarrel, Susan? ” 

“ I don’t know of any. Why? ” 

“ Oh, something he said about supposing 
you would not care to hear from him.” 

Was this what Dick thought? The question 
mixed itself up with the good-byes at the sta- 
tion, and repeated itself many times on the 
short journey home. Nettie was full of happy 
comments on the fun they had had and seemed 
not to notice her absoprtion. 

“ Marian was most affable, wasn’t she? I 
wish Bessie could have seen her. She was im- 
pressed by your intimacy with the Mcfarlands. 
What in the world shall we do with her and 
Lily when they come to Greenbrier? Mr. Me- 


AT WHITE SULPHUR 


251 


farland and ;Charlie will be easy to enter- 
tain.” 

Susan meanwhile was saying to herself that 
after all there was nothing to be greatly an- 
noyed about. Dick was bound to find out his 
mistake. Holliday knew she wasn’t engaged 
to Phil, and Marian said her father and brother 
had met the Lawrences. Oh, it would come 
out all right, she was sure. She avoided the 
question why she cared so much. We can dis- 
cuss things with ourselves very much as we do 
with other people, carefully avoiding danger- 
ous ground. Susan wished she could tell Net- 
tie about Lily, but she had promised. Lily 
was the first of their small circle to be en- 
gaged. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


LETTERS 

Susan was writing the story of The Wish- 
ing Field, sitting in a rowboat at anchor on the 
gravelly beach. Across the little river that 
rippled and sparkled in the sunshine, and 
showed cool and green in the shadow, towered 
a rocky cliff, its rough surface almost hid be- 
neath the thick foliage of the trees and hushes 
which clung to its steep sides. Over its top 
rose, one after another, soft, white clouds 
floating lazily away, slowly dissolving into the 
blue sky. The voices of Nettie and the chil- 
dren, digging ferns in the woods sounded 
pleasantly in the distance. 

Susan had paused in her writing to look 
around her in placid enjoyment of the beauty 
of the scene, when Robin came down the bank 
waving some letters. “ The Eastern mail was 
252 


LETTERS 


253 


two hours late/’ he announced, tossing them 
into her lap. 

“ Thank you,” said Susan. “ Are these 
all?” 

“ I should think three were enough,” an- 
swered Robin. “ The rest are Nettie’s.” 

Susan, weighting down her papers with a 
stone to keep them from blowing into the 
river, proceeded to examine her mail. One 
from Mother in Philadelphia, one from Bessie 
at home, and a foreign one, from Holliday. 
There were several reasons for saving this till 
the last, the chief one being that it demanded 
more time. Mrs. Maxwell had left only a few 
days ago and her letter was full of family news. 
Bessie’s was brief. “ You don’t know,” she 
wrote, “ how I envy you and Nettie all the cool 
greenness you tell of. It sounds even more 
delightful than your grand visit to White 
Sulphur. It is hot and dry and dusty in town. 
After sunset we take our chairs into the middle 
of the front yard, and sometimes find a breeze. 
To-night it looks stormy and I trust the end 
of the heat is in sight.” 


254 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Poor Bessie! It was too bad she had had 
no holiday. The Brocade Lady use to say that 
going away for the summer was a modern 
custom much overdone in her opinion. In the 
old days, she said, people were able to stand 
a little heat without complaining, but now the 
least discomfort made them fractious. After 
all, Susan thought, those who couldn’t get 
away from the city, outnumbered by thousands 
those who could. It made one a little ashamed 
of being so comfortable and happy. She 
folded Bessie’s letter and opened Holliday’s. 

An epistle from this young lady possessed 
the interest of a puzzle. It was beyond belief 
that so many ways of writing a letter could be 
contrived. As fancy dictated, she wandered 
from the first page to the fourth, then back 
to the second; or beginning on the fourth, she 
jumped to the first and then to the third. The 
reader lost connection frequently and wasted 
much time in the effort to match sentences cor- 
rectly. 

This particular letter proved more baffling 
than usual. It began; — 


LETTERS 


255 


‘‘Susan! Darling, Susan! 

I have something to tell you. I thought it would be 
easy, but it isn’t, — to write it, I mean. If I had you here 
it would be a different matter. But never mind I am com- 
ing home soon. We sail September eighteenth. I would 
wait to see you except that things have such a mysterious 
way of leaking out, and I could not endure the thought of 
your hearing of my wonderful happiness from anyone but me. 
It came as a great surprise, Susan, — and yet I don’t know 
why, for I see how it began long ago, when I was almost a 
child. We have been together very little. A few weeks last 
summer and this.” 

Here the first page ended, and Susan spent 
some moments turning the sheet this way and 
that, before she found what came next. Her 
heart was beating in tune with Holliday’s 
raptures as she read on : — 

“This time his arrival was most unexpected. And now 
I shall try to be sensible, dearest. I can hear you exclaim- 
ing, * It is time 1 ’ The Seymours have been here several 
weeks, but I take small account of the flight of time. We 
hoped to return to America together, but they could not 
get passage till some days later. I must tell you, I like 
Mr. Seymour better than I ever dreamed I could. You 
wrote me last winter he was nicer than of old. As for Dick, 
words fail me to say what a dear he is ! I could enlarge 
upon this theme, but refrain. You shall hear more later 
on. I told him I was going to tell you this. There is some- 


^56 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


thing else I want to say, but if I wait, I shall not catch 
this mail. More in my next, or when I see you. 

Your devoted, 

Holliday.” 

P. S. You are to be my maid of honor of course, but it 
is not to be for a long while yet.” 

Susan’s thoughts were in a whirl, a strange 
bewilderment was upon her as she folded her 
letters and slipped them inside her writing pad. 
Stepping out of the boat, she climbed the bank 
and entered the woods where the sunlight 
sifted through a vail of green and all was still 
and cool and peaceful. Avoiding the fern 
gatherers, whose voices she could still hear, 
she walked in the opposite direction till she 
reached the road stretching hot and sandy 
under the summer sun. She did not notice the 
heat, or care, but went on, crossing the bridge 
and the railroad track, and then up a steep, 
hill path, on and on, till the sight of the field 
of wishes brought her to herself. Quite tired 
out, she leaned on the rail fence under the 
sparse shade of the locust and began really to 
think. 

Holliday and Dick! Why had such a pos- 





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LETTERS 


257 


sibility never occurred to her? Here within 
reach hung the withered mullein stalk on 
which she had wished that nothing might hap- 
pen to spoil Holliday’s home coming. By 
what Florrie proclaimed the infallible sign, it 
was to come true. 

Well, why not? Why should this spoil it? 
It was just that it gave you a terribly lonesome 
feeling to have your best friend engaged to be 
married, she told herself. But Holliday and 
Dick! Who would ever have thought of this? 
Yet in spite of some incoherence the letter was 
plain. It could not mean anything else- They 
had seen very little of each other, she said. 
“ Just a few weeks last summer and this.” 

Susan leaned her head on the fence rail and 
gave way to a passionate burst of tears- Bum- 
blebees hummed around her among the golden 
rod and thistles, like the rest of the insect 
world making the most of the late summer 
days. A cloud of yellow butterflies fluttered 
over her. Why, why, should she be so un- 
happy? It was of no use to try to deceive her- 


258 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


self. She was. She did not want to see Holli- 
day, ever again. 

The storm passed after a while, and sitting 
on the brown grass she dried her eyes and 
looked for a moment at the smiling sky. She 
sat very still, feeling spent and languid. 

All winter long she had been growing up. 
Assuming the responsibilities of life, and learn- 
ing to make her own decisions. Long after- 
wards in looking back it seemed to her that 
now, once for all, she grew up. Sitting there, 
her head in her hand, she remembered the 
promise to be comrades and stand by each 
other. Was she going to keep it? Would she 
allow an unhappiness, she could not help, to 
come between her and a beautiful, dear friend- 
ship? She could not help just now being un- 
happy, hut she could help being mean and 
selfish. She could be captain of her soul. 

On her finger was the little ring Holliday 
had given her so long ago. It had been en- 
larged once. Was not their friendship for bet- 
ter, for worse? Other people liad hard things 
to bear. There was Joanna. “ Captain of my 


LETTERS 


259 


soul,” the phrase was from a poem Joanna 
liked. She remembered now. It had suddenly 
taken on a meaning it had lacked before. It 
was what she must be : captain of her soul. 

She dreamily watched a bumblebee on a 
thistle bloom, and a line from an old hymn 
floated through her mind: 

“ That soul, though all hell shall endeavor to 
shake, 

“ I’ll never, no never, no never, forsake.” 

She could hear Silvy turning the biscuit ma- 
chine and singing it. It meant that she did not 
have to fight her battles alone. 

The blue sky continued to smile down upon 
her, a gentle breeze swept the hillside and 
fanned her hot cheeks ; a chipmunk peeped at 
her around the tree trunk, the wild sweet 
notes of a thrush came across the field. Some- 
thing seemed to say, “ Take heart, Take heart. 
It will all come right.” 

For a long time she stayed there, very quiet 
and half dreaming, then climbing the fence into 


260 


SUSAN GROWS UR 


the field of wishes, and kneeling among the 
mullein stalks almost as if it were a religious 
rite, she made another wish, 

“ Perhaps some day I shall look back and 
think what a goose I was,’’ she said to herself 
as she turned towards home. 

‘‘ Where in the world have you been? ” 
asked Nettie, when Susan took her place at 
the dinner table after everybody else. 

“ Just up on the hill,” Susan answered, and 
Nettie began to tell her about the moonlight 
picnic they were planning. It was fortunate 
that Mother’s sharp eyes were not there to 
notice how pale and tired she looked. 


CHAPTER XXV 


AFTER ALL 

After all one is seldom left entirely forlorn. 
Something happens by way of compensation, 
and we find that a considerable number of 
things go to make up life, — ^not just one or 
two. 

One rainy morning Susan received another 
letter, typewritten this time, from the editor of 
a magazine for children, enclosing a check. A 
small check to be sure, but genuine, in pay- 
ment for some verses. She would find them, 
the note went on to state, in the September 
number which they had mailed her. 

All who have experienced it agree that there 
is a peculiar and inexpressible bliss in the first 
sight of one’s own thoughts in print, especially 
if supported by a check. Susan trembled with 
eagerness as she tore the cover from the maga- 
zine and, looking at the index, found, “ My 
261 


262 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Mother’s Fan,” Susan Norris Maxwell, page 
21.” She had written the rhyme for little Ken 
Brand who had a passion for fans, and his 
mother had insisted on having it sent some- 
where. This was the result. 

Susan opened her letter on the porch in the 
midst of the family, so there was no keeping it 
to herself if she had wished to. Nettie seized 
the paper and read it aloud. 

“ I like my mother’s lovely fan 
All green and blue and pink and gray. 
Which nurse says came from far Japan, 
Where funny slant-eyed people stay. 

I wave it gently to and fro. 

And smell the Japanesy smell, 

I make nice little breezes blow. 

And stories to myself I tell. 

I make them up out of my head 
about the people on the fan. 

I tell the things they did and said. 

Each lady, girl, and boy and man. 


AFTER ALL 


263 


The children all look strange to me 
Dressed in their long kimonos gay, 

Such clothes I’m very sure must be 
most inconvenient when they play. 

The houses where they live are queer; 

The trees are bent, the skies are green ; 

The little birds and flowers are dear. 

But different from the ones I’ve seen. 
Now this I’d like to know right well — 

If ’way off there in far Japan, 

The little boys have fans that tell 
Of things that are American? ” 

The congratulations she received were al- 
most overwhelming. It was a very simple 
little rhyme, Susan pointed out deprecatingly, 
but nobody listened. Mr. Bright said they had 
not guessed they were sheltering an author 
beneath their roof, and Nettie added that 
Susan wrote lots of lovely things. 

Mr. Maxwell didn’t say much, but it was 
easy to see he was proud of his little girl. The 
way in which he smiled at her, made Susan 
happier than anything else. The color came 


264 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


back to her cheeks. The letter said they would 
he glad to see more of her work. She would 
finish The Wishing Field at once. She was 
fired with eagerness to be at it. 

Dreams became possible once more. She 
would live in a story world. Children would 
love her books and write letters to her about 
them. People would ask at the library for 
Susan Norris Maxwell’s last story. This was 
perhaps a large castle to rest on one small 
poem, but then dream castles do not need large 
foundations. She was actually almost happy 
again, except when Nettie talked of the pleas- 
ure of seeing Holliday, then she felt a pang 
because she could not feel so very glad, but 
this Holliday should never guess. 

Nettie said Marian had told her that Dick 
would probably spend the winter in Germany, 
studying something in connection with the 
business his father wished him to undertake. 
Holliday seemed to think he was coming 
home, but it made little difference to Susan; 
or so she thought. 

Marian and Lily came over to spend the 


AFTER ALL 


265 


day, and as Nettie prophesied, it was not easy 
to entertain them. They were not dressed for 
life in the wilds and sat on the porch most of 
the time. Mr. Mcfarland and Charlie who 
accompanied them, were enthusiastic, and be- 
fore they left made arrangements with the 
Rector and Mr. Maxwell for several days’ 
fishing. 

In these days Susan’s thoughts turned often 
to Joanna and the secret she had faithfully 
kept. She really longed for her. Joanna 
was such an understanding person. The letter 
that came from her seemed in a wonderful and 
mysterious way, in answer to her need. 

Mrs. Story wrote: — You know I am a wiz- 
ard and gifted with second sight and the power 
to tell fortunes. I shut my eyes and see great 
happiness coming your way. So dearest if by 
chance anything is troubling you, take heart, 
it will all come right. 

This could not be applied to her literary am- 
bitions, unless Joanna was really a wizard. 
But then how could she possibly know about — 
well — anything else? 


^66 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Even if she couldn’t know, and had merely 
made a clever guess, her letter was most com- 
forting. Susan was re-reading it one morn- 
ing when Mr. Mcfarland came in the gate, 
and seeing her in the swing, crossed the grass 
and sat beside her. He and Charlie had made 
themselves decided favorites with the Green- 
brier household and enjoyed a standing invita- 
tion to dinner. To-day it was for good-bye. 
Jack explained. His mother and sister had 
gone east a week ago, and he was due at home 
early in September. 

“ Your Shyness is like the rest of the girls, 
always either reading or writing letters,” he 
remarked. 

Susan explained that this was from a very 
great friend now in Switzerland. She added, 
“ Joanna is the most interesting person I ever 
met.” 

“ That’s odd. The most interesting person 
I ever knew was named Joanna,” said her 
companion. “Joanna Burton. She was 
gifted and beautiful. I haven’t seen her for 


AFTER ALL 


m 


many years. Not since she was a girl of your 
age.” 

“Why she is my Joanna!” cred Susan. 
“ Did you really know her? How strange! ” 

In reality it was not so strange, when Jack 
had explained that for years his mother and 
her family had spent their summers on the 
Maine coast where the Burtons also lived part 
of the year. “ She was a wonder, beautiful 
and brilliant, and with the confidence of 
youth I considered myself a match for her.” 
He smiled whimsically — “ Yes, her marriage 
was the hardest knock I ever had, I believe. 
Mr. Story was a naturalist, famous in his par- 
ticular line, and rich as well, but thirty years 
older, and quite unsuited to her. I think the 
marriage was in a way forced on her. I have 
understood she was not altogether happy. But 
where did you know her? ” 

Susan told him about last winter, and from 
this they went on comparing notes and ex- 
changing impressions in a way that might well 
have caused Joanna’s ears to burn in far-away 
Switzerland. 


268 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ I have wondered if she was quite crushed 
by all she went through. To think of a woman 
like her being suspected of such a crime. I 
met her brother unexpectedly a year or two 
ago and had something of the story from him. 
It seemed to me she was sacrificed to shield the 
real criminal, a relative of her husband’s and 
mentally unbalanced. Joanna was living very 
quietly somewhere in the west at that time. 
Max said she had really behaved like an angel. 
When I knew her she wasn’t altogether an 
angel,” Jack said, laughing. 

“ I shouldn’t call her one yet,” Susan an- 
swered, “ but she is different from everybody 
else.” 

“ There is another thing I must ask you,” 
said Jack. ‘‘Does she write? I read a book 
last winter. The Heart of Knighthood^ that 
somehow suggested her so strongly I can’t 
help thinking she wrote it. The name of the 
author, too, made me think it. Her middle 
name is Justin.” 

So at last Susan had someone to share the 
secret with. Joanna had written The Heart 


AFTER ALL 


269 


of Knighthood, Her old friend had guessed 
it. This led to more absorbing talk till Nettie 
interrupted. 

“ I am sorry,” she called to them, ‘‘ but I am 
commissioned to announce that the dinner-bell 
has rung. 

“ I think I’ll venture to write to her if you 
will let me have her address,” Jack said, as 
they followed her into the house. 

“What do you think, Nettie? Mr. Mcfar- 
land knows Joanna,” Susan said. “ That is 
what we have been talking about.” 

In spite of that strange feeling, or lack of 
feeling about Holliday’s coming, which she 
couldn’t quite control, she had so much else to 
think about she could not be quite unhappy. 
She copied The Wishing Field, and sent it 
away, and began to wish for that half -finished 
book locked up in her desk at home. 

Joanna’s letter she read again and again, 
not only for its cheerful prophesy but for its 
warm affection. She had not looked at Holli- 
day’s letter since the first reading. It was 
tucked away in her portfolio. Something 
kept her from destroying it. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


HER SHYNESS 

Susan was walking slowly across the 
bridge, her portfolio under her arm. Nettie 
was to follow presently and they would finish 
a book they were reading together, in one of 
their favorite nooks, on the hill above the 
river. While she waited Susan intended to 
write to her mother. It was still early, the 
morning train from the east had passed only 
a few minutes before. 

Her thoughts were busy with things far 
away, and she gave no heed to the swift foot- 
steps behind her till, pausing a moment to 
look down at the green water, she was clasped 
from the back, and a never to be forgotten 
voice cried, “ Susan! Darling, Susan! ” For 
an instant she had a vision of a radiant face, 
and then she was enveloped in another ardent 
embrace. 


270 


HER SHYNESS 


271 


‘‘Holliday! It can’t be! Where did you 
come from? ” And, strange to say, all her 
doubts and fears faded, like the misty morn- 
ing clouds into sunny gladness, at the voice 
and smile of her friend. 

“ Oh, yes, it can,” Holliday assured her. 
“ I couldn’t wait, Susan. We found the 
Paynes were anxious to stay in London two 
weeks longer, and would be glad to exchange 
passage with us. Let me look at you. You 
are the same, — the very same. I was afraid 
you might have changed. How happy I 
am! ” Holliday put an arm around her again. 
“ Can’t we lose ourselves somewhere and talk 
undisturbed? I have so much to tell you, 
darling Susan.” 

“ If you don’t mind a little climb. But I 
do not understand yet how you got here.” 

Holliday laughed. “No wonder. We came 
to White Sulphur yesterday, and being un- 
able to wait another minute I took the morn- 
ing train down here, leaving Papa dreaming 
peacefully. I saw you crossing the railroad 
track, and ran after you.” 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


272 

“ The through train? How did you know it 
would stop? But then I forget how you al- 
ways have your own way/’ Susan concluded, 
smiling. 

“ You are not quite the same Susan/’ Hol- 
liday said abruptly, when after a few minutes’ 
climb they dropped down on some convenient 
rocks, breathing fast. “ You have grown up.” 

“ So have you,” Susan replied, watching 
while her friend removed her hat and gloves. 
What a wonderful, glowing person she was. 
Like the Holliday of old, yet with a finish and 
poise and grace of bearing that marked the 
difference between the child and the woman. 

Holliday moved closer to her and Susan 
met again the smiling affection in her beautiful 
eyes, and felt the soft pressure of the hand 
upon which shone a telltale ring. Her wish 
had come true. Her friendship for Holliday 
still lived unchanged. ‘‘ So you did not get 
mj^ letter,” she said. 

“ No, but you had mine? Tell me, were you 
surprised?” 

Susan looked away at the distant flash of 



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HER SHYNESS 


273 


the river as it made a turn around the hills. 
“Yes,” she replied, steadily, “ I never thought 

you and Dick would ” 

“Dick and I would what?” Holliday de- 
manded, as she hesitated. 

“ Why, you said — ^Your letter was a little 
ambiguous perhaps, but it could mean only 
one thing ” 

“Ambiguous! It couldn’t have been 
plainer. It is you who are ambiguous, or, 
something just as bad. Dick and I — what? ” 
Susan remembered that she had the letter 
in question right at hand, and she quickly pro- 
duced it from her portfolio. The two bent 
over it. 

“ It is rather foolish, I own,” said Holli- 
day, laughing, “ but not obscure. Why this 
does not make connection, Susan. No, here, 
turn it this way: ‘Aunt Nan and I visited 
the Fortesques’.’ Don’t you see — ‘ at their 
place in Devon, and it began there. That is 
for me. Brian says for him, it began that 

winter in New Orleans 

Susan took the letter from her hand, the 


274 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


color surged into her face. “ I didn’t read 
this page at all. You do write in such a ter- 
ribly mixed-up manner.” She read on, Hol- 
liday watching her with a mischievous expres- 
sion on her lips. — ‘‘ ‘ Think, Susan, all this 
time. And I a mere child, then! He still has 
that old badge I tossed him. He came last 
week, and although for some reason I’d rather 
marry an American, fate decrees otherwise. 
Things have been done decently and in order. 
He made formal application for my hand to 
Papa, though I assured him the hand of 
Douglas was his own.’ ” Susan looked up 
laughing, “ What a goose you always are I ” 

“ Not a circumstance to you. Give me that 
letter. How did you read it? Why, Susan, 
it does sound a little — but you couldn’t, — you 
couldn't think such a foolish thing. It is like 
a silly novel.” 

Tears rose to Susan’s eyes. She was 
crushed in another embrace. “ Susan, dar- 
ling! didn’t you hate me? You are an angel. 
I knew it. You would have let me have him 
without a word. And I couldn’t have given 


HER SHYNESS 


375 


you Brian. I couldn't, I always knew you 
were better than I. Oh, what a mix-up ! He 

thought that you ” 

Susan’s tears turned to laughter. “ Non- 
sense, Holliday, what are you talking about? 
How could I give you anybody? ” 

The tears were in Holliday’s eyes now. 
She released Susan, but still knelt before her. 
There was a sound of someone coming through 
the brush. Nettie, probably. 

The face that looked over the boulder 
which rose above them was not Nettie’s, how- 
ever. 

“Why, Dick Seymour!” Holliday cried, 
springing up. “Who said you might come? 
I thought I took the only train for hours, and 
should have Susan to myself.” 

Susan could only stare in blank surprise. 
When you are certain a person is on the other 
side of the ocean it takes a moment to readjust 
your ideas, when he appears. 

“ There is nothing the matter with freight 
trains,” Dick remarked, coolly, letting himself 
down. 


276 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Then Susan came to herself sufficiently to 
give him her hand. 

‘‘ I learned your whereabouts from Robin 
Bright,” Dick added in further explanation. 

“I am as cross as can be!” Holliday de- 
clared. “ Susan and I had just begun; but 
I’ll be generous. Dick, there has been the most 
perfect comedy of errors. Susan is the most 
forgiving angel! A dime novel couldn’t do 
better. She thought — . But I will let her 
tell you. I’ll go and find Nettie. No, 
Susan, — I am going by myself. Of course I 
can find my way, silly girl.” Holliday was 
gone. 

“ She will kill herself if she goes down hill 
like that,” Susan exclaimed uneasily. 

“ She is very surefooted,” said Dick. “ We’ll 
follow her directly. Don’t you think you 
ought to say you are glad to see me? — after all 
this time! ” 

The pink in the cheeks of her Shyness was 
very deep, indeed, as she owned demurely she 
was glad to see him, and grew deeper yet at 
his next question. 


HER SHYNESS 


m 

“ What is it you thought? ” 

She sought helplessly for a way of escape. 
“ It was only a foolish mistake/’ she said, with 
downcast eyes. 

Dick took the place vacated by Holliday, a 
little below her, where he could see the droop- 
ing face. “ Susan, did Holliday tell you what 
a great time she and I had pacing the deck 
together coming over, while she talked of 
Brian and I of you? ” 

“ A little smile curled her lips, “ No,” she 
answered. 

“ I had heard something about you,” he con- 
tinued, “ it came very straight, and when I put 
it with certain other things, last winter, I 
thought it must be true. That is why I went 
with Father. I was pretty blue. Holliday 
tried to cheer me, but it was your friend, Mrs. 
Story, whom we met at Lausanne who told me 
my mistake. She talked a great deal about 
you, and finally I told her.” 

“ Joanna! ” Susan exclaimed, softly. “ She 
is a witch! ” 


278 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ She is a very keen person,” Dick said, 
smiling. “ She told me it was not true about 
you and Phil and advised me to go home. 
Then I heard from Holliday that they were 
leaving and that I could join them if I wished, 
two weeks earlier. Now turn about is fair 
play. I want to hear about your mistake.” 

“ Oh, Dick, never mind.” 

But he insisted and had his way. “ You 
blessed little goose! and you really cared? ” he 
asked, taking forcible possession of the hands 
that tried to hide her burning cheeks as she 
made her confession. “ Why should you feel 
it such a disgraceful thing to be fond of me? 
Girls are queer! I was miserable when I 
thought you were in love with someone else, 
but I was not ashamed.” 

“ You are very nice and sensible, Dick,” 
Susan laughed a little tremulously, “ I’m 
afraid I am always looking on at myself.” 

“ Then you ought to see the darlingest girl 
in the world, and be satisfied, as I am,” he an- 
swered. 

“ Do you remember when Bessie and Aline 


HER SHYNESS 


279 


teased me about you, and I was rude at the 
skating rink? That was our first misunder- 
standing.” Susan absently pulled the petals 
from a belated daisy. 

Considerable time had elapsed since Dick 
looked over the boulder. The noon local had 
passed, in fact, and the sun was looking di- 
rectly down upon their hiding-place. 

“ Certainly I do ; and meeting you after- 
wards in the Brocade Lady’s sitting-room. 
You were the dearest little girl! Well, there 
aren’t to be any more misunderstandings, are 
there? ” he asked. 

And then Susan suddenly recalled her anx- 
iety over Holliday’s possible fate, and insisted 
they must follow. 

Holliday, they discovered, had found her 
way to the house without any trouble, sur- 
prising Mrs. Bright who was sewing on the 
porch with a request to be allowed to sit down 
and pick off the stickers. 

“ I thought it must be a princess wandering 
incognito,” Mrs. Bright explained. “ She had 


280 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


a most distinguished air in spite of being all 
stuck up with burrs and beggar’s lice.” 

When Susan and Dick appeared, Holliday 
was entertaining an admiring group on the 
porch. 

“ Dick, I am going to stay with Susan till 
to-morrow, but I expect you to go back to the 
Springs and relieve any anxiety my fond 
parent may be feeling. — Oh, I left him a note 
of explanation, Mr. Bright.” 

“ How long will you be at White Sulphur, 
Dick? ” the Rector asked at the dinner-table. 

Dick hesitated, and Holliday answered for 
him, ‘‘ Till the twenty-second.” 

Dick looked at her in surprise. “ How do 
you know, pray?” he inquired, and then saw 
the point as Nettie exclaimed, “Why, that 
is the day we go! ” 

There was more to be said than could pos- 
sibly be crowded into the available hours. But 
after they had seen Dick off, Susan took Hol- 
liday to the wishing field and told her about 
the wish that they might always be friends in 
spite of everything. 


HER SHYNESS 


281 


‘‘ We alwaj^s shall be, Susan,” her friend 
said, earnestly. “ Nothing I am sure can ever 
come between us.” 

“ Whenever I have thought there was some- 
thing, it has been my mistake,” Susan owned. 

They sat on the top rail of the snake fence, 
and Holliday reached out and clasped Susan’s 
hand. “ You always were the dearest goose,” 
she said. “ Doesn’t Dick tell you so? ” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


STILL PARTNERS 

“ You see, Mrs. Maxwell, I simply couldn’t 
do any real work with Susan over here. I am 
willing to wait four, — even six months, 
but ” 

“But our only little girl, Dick! Do you 
realize ? ” 

It was lamplight in the Maxwells’ pleasant 
dining-room which had changed very little in 
all the years. There was still the snowy land- 
scape on the lamp shade in the center of the 
table on one side of which Mr. Maxwell sat 
with his paper, on the other Mrs. Maxwell 
with her work. Between the Canton jardi- 
nieres and the tall candlesticks the bronze fish- 
woman still looked down from the high white 
mantel; the bay window was full of plants 
just brought indoors yesterday. With his back 
282 


STILL PARTNERS 


283 


to the fire stood Dick Seymour, facing the 
other two. 

“ Kitty, he is only asking you to do what 
your mother did when she let me bring you out 
to Kentucky,” suggested Mr. Maxwell, smil- 
ing at the tall young man on the hearth rug. 

“ Kentucky is not Germany ; and I was 
older. Wasn’t I?” 

“ About six months. Dearest I think we’ll 
have to say ‘ yes ’ or at least leave it to Susan 
herself.” 

“ Mrs. Maxwell, I’ll take good care of her. 
I know — that is — I try to see — your side. It 
must be hard. I love her as much as you do.” 
Dick felt he was expressing himself very 
mildly, but Susan’s mother replied: 

“ That is nonsense, Dick; you can’t. You 
do love her I am sure, and as Frank has gone 
over to your side ” 

“ What is Father siding with Dick about? ” 
asked Susan, standing in the open door. Such 
a bright-eyed, charming Susan! 

“ Susan, he wants to take you to Germany 
in February,” cried her mother. 


284 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


Susan nodded as if this were no news to her. 

“You don’t think it would be possible, do 
you? ” 

She looked from her mother to her father, 
and then smiled at Dick. “ Why, yes, easily. 
I shall not need so many things.” 

“ It was not things, darling, — but so soon, — 
so far.” 

“ But only for a year. You know you 
wanted me to go abroad, Mother, and we’ll be 
back before you know it. You see,” Susan’s 
dimple deepened, “ Dick needs me to make 
him study. We’re going to learn German to- 
gether.” 

Mr. Maxwell laughed. “ You see, Kitty, 
it is all settled. You and I may go our ways.” 

Susan’s bright face clouded. “ Why, 
Father, — Mother dear, — you don’t think ” 

“ It is all right, dearie. Don’t listen to 
Father. We are a little selfish, I suppose, not 
to wish you to be as happy as we have been! 
Some day, perhaps, you will understand.” 

At present she was not concerned with un- 
derstanding anything but her own happiness. 


STILL PARTNERS 


285 


Was this the same world? Was she the same 
Everyday Susan? Dick loved that name, and 
quoted Wordsworth: 

A Creature not too bright and good 
For human nature’s daily food.” 

“ I am glad I am not too bright,” Susan 
said, mischievously, making a little face, but 
after he had gone she took down the book he 
had given her years ago and read the poem 
beginning. 

She was a phantom of delight. 

It could not be applied to her in any sense, she 
decided, yet it was dear of Dick to think so. 

The reason firm, the temperate will. 
Endurance, foresight, strength and skill — ” 

All this was what she would like to be. Then 
for an instant over her happiness swept a 
cloud. Suppose Dick should be disappointed 
in her? 

When she confessed this, Dick asked if she 


286 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


wanted to be called a goose, again? “ Isn’t it 
quite as likely, to say the least, that you will 
be the disappointed one? ” 

Nettie of course had guessed. She must 
have been deaf and dumb and blind, not to, 
Holliday declared, but she had been bound 
over to secrecy for the present. Susan wanted 
the pleasure of exploding her small bomb for 
the benefit of her special friends, herself. 

Bessie was the first to come running in, 
eager to talk over plans for the winter. Did 
Susan want to keep on with the candy? In re- 
ply Susan held out the hand on the third fin- 
ger of which shone Dick’s sapphire. It was 
the color of her eyes and suited her far better 
than a diamond, he said. 

Bessie took it with provoking calm. She 
wished her the greatest happiness, but she was 
not surprised. 

“ That is unkind of you, Bessie,” Holliday 
told her, entering in the midst of the revela- 
tion. “ Susan is under the illusion that her 
friends will faint with astonishment.” 

Holliday was staying at Christmas Tree 


STILL PARTNERS 


287 


House till the Maxwells were settled. Her 
father’s business would keep him in the 
vicinity till Christmas, then they would go to 
New Orleans. 

‘‘ But Marian, Susan — I want to know how 
she has behaved? ” Bessie said. 

“ I had a very nice letter from her. She 
is in New York. I believe I am a little sorry 
for her, she is so fond of Dick, and she must 
be dreadfully disappointed.” 

“ That is carrying altruism too far, Susan,” 
cried Holliday. “ But you must tell her what 
a dear one you had from Mr. Seymour.” 

Susan smiled, but this letter was one she 
did not care to talk about. There were refer- 
ences in it to Elsie, and to Dick’s mother. 
Things she did not read even to Holliday. 

Next, came Aline, who had stopped at the 
Brands’, and not finding Holliday, naturally 
turned to the Maxwells’. She had been with 
her aunt at a sanatorium all summer, and had 
just brought her home, still an invalid, but on 
the road to frecovery. She looked well and 
happy. 


288 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ IVe discovered that my chief talent is for 
nursing,” she said, after the first excitement 
of greeting the long absent one had passed. 
“ Some day when Aunt Allie is well again 
I intend to take the training course. It 
will give me the chance to be so useful and 
helpful. I will never leave Aunt Allie while 
she needs me. She has been wonderfully 
brave and patient through her illness, and al- 
most too kind to me.” 

“ Aline’s dreams are of hospitals and Set- 
tlements, and a long future of usefulness,” 
laughed Holliday, her eyes on Susan’s dream- 
land picture. 

“ Aline smiled. ‘‘ How about you? You 
are not a queen yet? ” 

“ My aspirations are not quite so high,” she 
answered, her color deepening, “ But Susan 
has something to show you.” 

‘‘ Really, Susan? Dick, of course. Well, 
you are exactly suited to each other. I am 
very glad. He is a lucky boy! ” 

Then Lily came, and after her Nettie, till 
Mrs. Boone, downstairs, said it sounded like 


STILL PARTNERS 


289 


several afternoon teas in one, up in Susan’s 
room. 

Lily lingered after the others. “ Oh, Susan, 
I envy you!” she said, her eyes filling. “ I 
have told Grandma and she is very unkind. 
She says I shall never marry Phil with her 
consent.” 

There was no reason for keeping secret 
what everybody would soon know, anyway, so 
Susan’s engagement was announced at the tea 
Mrs. Brand gave in honor of Holliday. When 
good wishes became overwhelming, Susan, 
pink-cheeked and demure, would call atten- 
tion to Joanna’s new book which she held. It 
had come to her that morning with the author’s 
permission to tell the secret. Across The 
Storm j was its title. 

The cruel gossip about Mrs. Story had been 
widespread, and it was particularly gratify- 
ing to be able to pay her this public tribute, 
Susan thought, besides serving to distract at- 
tention from herself. 

“ The mysterious express package was 
manuscript, of course,” said Nettie, “ and the 


290 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


man Miss Mattie thought was John Justin, 
was a pubhsher.” 

“ I am still inclined to be jealous of this 
Joanna,” Holliday declared. “ It seems she 
is almost, if not quite, as fascinating as I am, 
and writes books, besides.” 

“ I am disappointed in you, Susan. I al- 
ways meant to have you for my maid of honor, 
and now, it seems, I have to be yours. Papa 
would not hear to less than a year, and like a 
dutiful daughter I submit. Did I tell you 
Brian’s uncle is very ill? will probably not re- 
cover.” 

“ And that would mean — Why, Holliday! ” 

‘‘ Yes, but I really do not care so very much 
about that, Susan.” 

The meeting of the old circle to open the 
box they had hid four years before in the 
hollow oak, had been postponed till Charlie 
should be at home. Holliday intended to 
make it very impressive. One morning when 
Susan was dusting the dining-room, she ap- 
peared in great excitement. 

“ The most tragically absurd and disap- 


STILL PARTNERS 


291 


pointing thing has happened,” she cried. “ I 
hope it is not an ill omen.” 

“ Please don’t keep me in suspense,” 
Susan begged. 

Holliday waited to laugh a little. “You 
know our buried spades? ” 

“ I have heard them mentioned.” 

“Did you ever chance to hear of a tree 
doctor? ” 

“ No. Is it a person who doctors trees? ” 

“Clever Susan! Exactly. They plaster 
trees up with tar and cement and all sorts of 
things. That is what has happened to our 
old oak. It will be impossible, short of cut- 
ting the tree down, to recover our buried 
treasure.” 

Susan sat down and laughed in her turn. 

“ I am dreadfully disappointed, heartless 
creature. We shall never see those spades 
again. Colonel Brand feels very badly about 
it.” 

As Mrs. Brand said, she was the same Holli- 
day, not a bit more spoiled than she had always 
been; and who could help spoiling such a 


292 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


beautiful, winning creature? Teas, dinners 
and dances were showered upon her, and she 
responded with her joyous sparkle. Yes, flags 
were always flying where Holliday was. 

That was a most distracting winter. Lit- 
erary aspirations were neglected along with 
other matters, and the days and weeks tripped 
over each other as they raced towards a certain 
date in February. Holliday went to New 
Orleans in December, but returned for the 
wedding. Some of the Eastern relatives came 
on, and Brother Joe from Colorado. 

Susan made the dearest bride, Holliday 
said, and surely no bride ever had a more 
radiant maid of honor. 

The bride elect stood on a sheet before the 
mirror as she had when she dressed for her 
first party, not much more than a year ago, and 
Miss Tilhe put on her veil under Miss Mar- 
garet’s supervision. Susie Flynn clasped her 
hands in ecstasy in the background, and 
Mammy Ria, who in spite of rheumatism had 
hobbled in to see the last of her baby, ex- 
claimed, “Honey, you shore is lovely!” 


STILL PARTNERS 


29S 


Then Father stood diffidently at the edge 
of the sheet. Between us there is a great 
gulf,” he remarked with a wistful smile. 

Susan held out her arms to him, but Mother 
coming in looking very young and pretty, 
cried, “Darling, don’t! You’ll spoil her, 
Frank. You mustn’t.” 

Her Shyness had a beautiful color, and be- 
neath her filmy veil her eyes, when she lifted 
them, were dark and deep. She moved in a 
sort of dream, smiling at her fluttering maids, 
doing as she was told. She walked up the 
long, long aisle at the church, on her father’s 
arm, conscious only of a strange blur of 
lights and faces, remembering only that she 
must keep step to the music. And then, after 
an endless time, she saw Dick waiting for 
her. 

So they were married with their old friends 
grouped about them. The organ played 
“ Hail to the Bride,” and Susan woke to the 
strange fact that she was the bride, leading 
the way now down that long aisle with Dick. 
It was over. 


294 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ So now you are Mrs, Susan Hermione,” 
her brother Joe said, when he kissed her. 

The reception at home was simply for the 
two families and their most intimate friends, 
but there seemed to be a great many of these. 
Except Dick’s friend and best man, Mr. 
Warren, it was just the old circle that gathered 
about the bride’s table. 

“ Do look at them! ” Mrs. Boone whispered, 
wiping her eyes. “ One doesn’t know whether 
to laugh or cry at such a sight. This is the 
first break in the group.” 

“ There is nothing to cry about,” Margaret 
Brand assured her. “ It is an ideal marriage. 
It means that we shall have Susan with us al- 
ways.” 

But Mrs. Boone’s tears were not for Susan 
at all. 

There had been many merry toasts and 
much laughter when at length the groom arose. 
“ Before we separate,” he said, I have one 
more health to propose. The future Countess 
of Darrow! ” he turned to the maid of honor. 


STILL PARTNERS 


295 


‘‘ She once wished to be a person of impor- 
tance. May all her dreams be realized ! ” 

This was a surprise, indeed! If her friends 
guessed that Holliday had left her heart 
across the water, they had none of them, if 
they chanced to see it, connected her future 
with the announcement of the death of the old 
earl a few days before. Excitement rose 
high. Exclamations, questions, congratula- 
tions, united to make an uproar. 

“ Girls! Boys! ” Holliday cried at last, ris- 
ing and lifting an appealing hand. “ Please 
listen. I thank you all, but I want you to know 
that Brian is much better than any title. 
Susan knows ; ” she smiled across the table at 
her friend. “ Please forget my silly wish,” she 
concluded, in genuine embarrassment. 

The excitement over this announcement 
served, as was designed, to cover the retreat 
of the bride and groom, who, escaping by a 
back door, were on their way to the station 
before their departure was generally known. 

“ Well, your Shyness,” said Dick as they 
drove through the lighted streets, “ we are 
partners now for good and all.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

SOME TIME AGO 

Susan grew up some time ago, though it 
seems just the other day. Since her wedding 
there has been a war, automobiles have come 
into general use, and airships and wireless te- 
legraphy have been invented. 

“ I can’t think what you did to amuse your- 
selves,” remarked Elsie Seymour, “ without 
any moving pictures, and not half so many 
parties. Mother says. It must have been 
stupid.” 

“Stupid! Listen to the child,” cried the 
Countess of Harrow, who was visiting her 
friend, Mrs. Seymour. “ This generation, 
though far more conceited, is not nearly so 
bright as we were. You have doing on the 
brain; we had time to dream. In spite of your 
296 


SOME TIME AGO 297 

many diversions, we had far more fun. Don’t 
you remember, Susan ? ” 

Elsie’s laugh interrupted, for she had heard 
those words a hundred times more or less, in 
the last few day. 

“ Very well, saucebox, wait till you are an 
old lady, and you will find yourself asking the 
same question when you meet a friend you 
haven’t seen before for years,” the countess 
assured her gravely. 

If she was an old lady she had managed to 
conceal the ravages of time wonderfully well. 
The cheek she pressed caressingly against 
Elsie’s, did not suffer by comparison. 

She is the most perfectly beautiful person 
you ever dreamed of,” Elsie told her school- 
mates, “ and really quite like other people in 
her ways. You would never guess she was a 
countess.” 

Exactly what the distinguishing marks of a 
countess should be she might perhaps have 
found it difficult to explain. 

It is the greatest fun to hear her and 
Mother talk of when they were little girls,” 


298 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


she continued. ‘‘ Of how they met for the 
first time, and the funny little school they 
went to, with Cousin Margaret for teacher.” 

Indeed the prestige enjoyed by Elsie in 
these days was immense, for rapid and excit- 
ing as modern life has become, in a democratic 
country, countesses remain something of a 
novelty. 

Her visit would have been made a social 
event but that the recipient of the many in- 
vitations regretted her brief stay must be 
devoted to her old friends. 

The Seymours had built a country home 
near the very spot which had once been the 
scene of a winter picnic. The windows of 
Susan’s spacious living-room opened upon a 
view of rolhng hills and distant river, beautiful 
now under the magic of spring time. 

“It is all so exactly like you and Dick,” 
Holliday told her. “ Comfortable and har- 
monious.” 

Susan laughed. She, too, it may be said, 
was much the same small, rosy person she had 
been. “ Yes, we are quite harmonious,” she 


SOME TIME AGO 


299 


said. “ Dick wanted the children to grow up 
in the country, and in these days of machines 
we can go back and forth so easily. Aline is 
our nearest neighbor and the finest person I 
know. She is using her wealth so wisely.” 

Holliday stood at the window and watched 
Elsie on the terrace below. Presently the lit- 
tle girl saw her and kissed her hand as she ran 
away. “ She has Dick’s eyes and your smile,” 
she said, and clasping Susan’s hand, was very 
still for a moment. 

Susan pressed the hand to her cheek. “ OH, 
Holliday, I can guess,” she whispered, for she 
knew her friend was thinking of her only little 
daughter, who if she had lived, might have been 
Elsie’s friend. 

“ Brian and the boys are splendid and dear, 
don’t think I am not happy, Susan,” Hol- 
liday smiled through her tears. “ But they are 
boys, and sometimes ” 

They sat before the wood fire and talked 
of old times and new, till Aline Arthur, now 
become a most distinguished-looking woman, 
walked in upon them. She was, as Susan said. 


300 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


fine, both to see and to hear. She was answer- 
ing questions about her work for factory girls, 
when Susan glancing towards the window ex- 
claimed, ‘‘ Why, here is Tom Mann, come out 
in his machine, and Bessie is with him. How 
nice! She is usually so busy.” 

The newcomers were scarcely seated, when 
the master of the house appeared, and with 
him another member of the old circle. ‘‘ I 
caught the parson on th^fly,” he announced. 
‘‘ He had stopped here for a day, on his way 
to General Assembly, and IVe made him stay 
another night. I failed to round up any more 
of the old set, however.” 

“ Why, Charlie Willard, is it really you? ” 
cried Holliday. 

“ Surely, your ladyship, — if that is what 
they call you — All the General Assembles in 
the world couldn’t have kept me from staying 
when I heard you were here. One doesn’t have 
a chance to hobnob with the nobility every 
day.” 

‘‘ And you are really a minister, Charlie? I 
can’t believe it.” 


SOME TIME AGO 


301 


I recall you were always flattering, Holli- 
day. You had it in for me from the start. I 
was ever the villain.” 

“ She hasn’t seen you in gown and bands,” 
observed Tom. 

“Dick has something he is dying to say. 
Be quiet all of you,” said Ahne. 

“ Out with it. Sir Richard. We’re listen- 
ing,” and Charlie subsided into an easy chair 
next Holliday. 

Dick drew a chair into the midst of the 
group, and took from the table a package he 
had laid there a moment before. “ I have 
something to show you,” he said. “ Can any- 
one guess what it is ? Something of interest to 
us all.” 

“ Connected with old times, of course,” ob- 
served Charlie. 

“ Old photographs?” asked Holliday. 

“ That reminds me. I found the funniest 
one the other day,” Susan began. 

“ Tell us, Dick. We can’t guess,” Tom 
urged, looking at his watch, “ I’m sorry but 
my time is limited.” 


302 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


All eyes were upon Dick, as unrolling his 
parcel, he disclosed a dingy tin box. For a 
minute no one guessed what it was, then with 
an exclamation Holliday sprang up and seized 
it. “Dick! Where did it come from? Our 
little, old buried box ! ” 

The rest crowded around her to gaze and 
exclaim, while Dick explained. “ You know, 
of course, that the Brands’ house was turned 
into a club some years ago, and this spring ad- 
ditions are being made which involved the cut- 
ting down of some trees, among them our old 
oak. I happened to think of our box, being 
on the building committee, and one day when 
I was talking to some workmen, I asked them 
to be on the lookout for it. And here it 
is.” 

In silence they watched Holliday unfasten 
it and take out the folded paper and the 
spades. “ So long ago,” she murmured, 
solemnly. “ Do you remember how we 
laughed over it, and then at the last how seri- 
ous we grew? It seemed a sort of test. You 
wrote it, Tom, suppose you read it.” She 


SOME TIME AGO 


303 

handed him the paper. Holliday was the 
leader as of old. 

What we honestly wish to be,’ ” read 
Dr. Thomas Mann. “ ‘ Evelyn Holliday 
Heywood: A person of importance.’ That 
came true long ago. ‘ Susan Maxwell: Au- 
thor.’ ” 

‘‘ That is true, too. Nobody writes better 
stories for children than Susan,” said Bessie. 
“ And she is lots of other things besides,” 
added Holliday. 

“ That last is true of everybody who lives,” 
protested Susan. 

‘‘‘Elizabeth Mann: Physician,”’ con- 
tinued Tom. 

“ I am certainly far from that,” remarked 
Bessie, but there was no discontent in her 
smile. 

“ You know, I suppose, Holliday, that 
Bessie has become a famous caterer? She 
rivals Browinski of old,” Aline said. 

“ She is the greatest comfort when you en- 
tertain,” Susan added. 

“ ‘ Henrietta Tryon: Pianist.’ In reality. 


304 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


married to a Cambridge professor. I wonder 
if she keeps up her music? ” 

“ ‘ Aline Arthur: An Artist.’ ” 

“ The best sort of an artist, she has dis- 
covered the art of life.” 

“ Thank you, Charlie. I wish I quite de- 
served that,” Aline answered. 

“ ‘ Lily Boone: To marry a judge.’ ” 

They smiled a little over this, somehow it 
brought back more vividly than anything else 
the old times. “ Poor Lily, she has shut her- 
self away from everybody since Phil’s death. 
She was devoted to him,” said Susan. 

“ Poor old Phil,” Tom added. ‘‘ It is odd 
the two names should come together. I am 
next. I believe I am realizing my ambition to 
some extent.” 

“ As if you were not fast becoming a famous 
specialist! with barely a minute to give your 
friends,” said Dick. 

“‘Richard Seymour: Must be a business 
man, but wishes to be a farmer.’ He has suc- 
cessfully combined the two.” 

“ ‘ Charles Willard : A Civil Engineer.’ 


SOME TIME AGO 


305 


You and Bess have departed most widely 
from your original ambitions.” 

“ Charlie, I long to hear you preach,” Holli- 
day said, laughing, “ I don’t quite believe 
you can.” 

‘“We promise,’ ” continued Tom, “ ‘ to he 
comrades, to stand by each other, to remember 
the Wise Man, and to meet again four years 
from now, as near this date as possible. In 
testimony of our determination to keep our 
promise, we will all of us place here our little 
spades to be reclaimed whenever the box is 
opened, if we have been true diggers.’ — Then 
the names.” He concluded. 

“ Have we been true diggers? ” asked Susan, 
smiling. 

“ I think we have,” Charlie answered. “ We 
have tried to do our duty on our various ways, 
according to our opportunities. We have 
learned that the best life has to oifer is love 
and service. So I think we may take back our 
spades, not to rest on them, but in the spirit 
of new endeavor. — How will that do, Holli- 
day?” 


306 


SUSAN GROWS UP 


“ Thank you, a very good sermon, but you 
are the same Charlie,” she told him. Then she 
brought out pictures of her husband and chil- 
dren and her beautiful English home, and 
Charlie insisted that his boy was a match for 
hers, and when she doubted, dared her to come 
to Chicago and see. 

Tom said, speaking of boys, he had some- 
thing to say, and Dick added, he wasn’t the 
only one, and so it continued for a time with 
everybody talking, and then when the sun had 
dropped behind the hills and the visitors were 
gone, quiet fell on the room again. 

After a silence Holliday spoke. “ It would 
take a year to ask all the questions I want to 
ask, and hear the answers. I felt so when 
Jack and Joanna paid us that flying visit 
last year. I love Joanna. I am no longer 
jealous of her.” 

“ I must take you on a pilgrimage, Holli- 
day,” Susan said, “ but the changes will make 
you sad. Since the church burned, the Brocade 
Lady’s cottage is almost the only landmark 
left, and that is soon to be torn down. Where 


SOME TIME AGO 


307 


Dick used to live there is a public building, and 
Christmas Tree House, as you know, is a club. 
You remember Elsie’s window? Fortunately 
it was not damaged at all. It and the Wise 
Man’s tablet will be in the new St. Mark’s, 
when it is finished.” 

Dick coming in from a walk found them 
still talking. “ Have you seen the new moon? ” 
he asked. “ It is worth looking at.” 

The two friends stood together in the win- 
dow and gazed up at the tiny golden crescent. 
“ A new moon always reminds me of the night 
when I made a wish for a friend,” began 
Susan. 

‘‘ And got me for keeps,” Holliday said, 
with a smile, clasping her hand. 



BOOKS BY MARY F. LEONARD 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 

“A good book to put on the list of Christmas presents to 
give any girl between ten and fifteen years old.” — American Club 
IV omen. 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

This sequel to “Everyday Susan” carries on the same pleasant 
circle of young people with whom we became acquainted in the 
former book, and narrates the numerous adventures centering 
about the romantic mansion known as Christmas Tree House. 

Each, illustrated, 8vo, $1.50 postpaid 


THE STORY OF THE BIG FRONT DOOR 

“We have given this book to several bright children, and 
they have all said, ‘It’s just splendid!’ ” — The Church. 

HOW THE TWO ENDS MET 

“A charming story for children, permeated by a wholesome 
spirit of kindness.” — St. Paul Dispatch. 


IT ALL CAME TRUE 

“A story for the little girls, simply told and sure to be inter* 
esting.” — Pilgrim Teacher. 

Each, illustrated, 12mo, 75 cents postpaid 


THE CANDLE AND THE CAT 

"A brightly written book. Entertaining and wholesome.” 

— Los Angeles Herald. 


HALF A DOZEN THINKING CAPS 

“What a youthful college graduate can do in bringing un- 
tamed youngsters under training is told with much spirit and 
good nature.” — The Dial. 

Each, with frontispiece, 8vo, 50 cents postpaid 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 



THE “DOROTHY BROOKE” BOOKS 

By FRANCES CAMPBELL SPARHAWK 


DOROTHY BROOKE’S SCHOOL DAYS 

“Much of the charm that has made Miss Alcott’s stories dear 
to the hearts of two or three generations of girls is in a beautiful 
new story by Miss Sparhawk. Girls, and girls’ mothers, will be 
equally glad to get hold of ‘Dorothy Brooke’s School Days.’ 
. . . The story is perhaps the best girls’ story in a decade.’’ 

— San Francisco Globe. 


DOROTHY BROOKE’S VACATION 

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needed. School-girls are always with us. Most of them will read 
stories, and whoever provides parents, teachers, and librarians 
with a wholesome story that every girl will delight to read renders 
the home and school a noble service. . . . ‘Dorothy Brooke’s 
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DOROTHY BROOKE’S EXPERIMENTS 

“Neither an old-fashioned account of intellectual development 
nor an up-to-date sketch of trifling contests and crushes. It is 
a very strong unfolding of situations that any college girl must 
meet in life, not simply in term time, but m vacation.’’ 

— Hartford Post. 


DOROTHY BROOKE AT RIDGEMORE 

“A book about college life that girls will be glad to read and 
re-read, and it is well worth it .’’ — Albany Evening Journal. 


DOROTHY BROOKE ACROSS THE SEA 

The adventures of the heroine and various old friends, and some 
new ones, during a trip abroad. This last book, with its great 
variety of incident, its entirely fresh scenes, and its host of inter- 
esting characters, will perhaps prove most attractive of all the 
volumes in this widely known series. 


Each, volume, cloth, 8vo, $1.50 
Illustrations by Frank T. Merrill 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 


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